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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[It's been a few months since the blissful week that Dorian was able to spend so much time with him, and Orym isn't at all surprised that his feelings for the Air Genasi haven't faded at all. If anything, he's found himself falling deeper and deeper for Dorian, through late night chats via the sending stones, through the visits that the other has been able to make, even if they are nowhere near as frequent as Orym would wish. It's still enough to provide a bright spot in his life.

His boss likes to remind him that he can't simply wait for his prince to come. He may have had a honeymoon week, but she assures him that the handsome blue nobleman will tire of him eventually, that he had better not forget the debt he owes. She makes certain that the halfling remembers his place in all this, and it chips away at some of that impossible hope that keeps trying to take root in Orym. But it's a stubborn hope that won't be so easily uprooted.

He's finishing on stage one night when he's summoned to the madame's office. Everything that happens after that is a blur. He's informed that his debt has been purchased, that he'll now be in the service of this new benefactor, and he'll be leaving immediately. He starts to protest that he can't just leave, but it's made clear that it is non-negotiable. He's not even allowed to go to his room, assured that his things will be packed at sent along. Orym tries not to panic. His sword and shield are there, of course. But also the sending stone. How will he contact Dorian and tell him what's happened? How will he tell him that he'll never see him again?

That thought settles like a lead weight in him, and it's a very subdued, quiet halfling that is bustled out of the brothel to wherever his new destination will be. He's welcomed by servants who seem kind enough, though with a certain brusque efficiency. He's bathed and dressed in fine clothes, far nicer than he's ever worn, in the regalia colors of this strange and beautiful floating city that he's been taken to. And then he's left to wait in a bedroom that is larger and brighter than where he's lived for the last few years, soft linens drape over a large bed, a pair of glass doors that open to a balcony currently bathed in the soft gold light of the late afternoon sun.

He's told to wait, and so he waits. And he tries not to think about Dorian, but it's impossible.

Meanwhile, the mastermind behind this whole series of events is strolling the halls of the Wyvernwind home looking so intensely pleased with himself. Cyrus, after not too much detective work, has figured out why his little brother seems so distracted and wistful lately. He's been pining and in love and after following him stealthily (somehow) on one outing, he's realized that Brontë's gone and fallen for the pretty halfling he met at the brothel.

And that's something Cyrus can do something about! Right? So he does. He purchases Orym's debt, so that Orym can come away from that place. That way Brontë doesn't have to miss him! This is fool proof, clearly. It's a love story, right? It must be. He watched the way Orym lit up when he saw Brontë arrive the time that he followed him, saw the way they both looked at each other. It's so obvious. Even he's seen it.

Cyrus knocks on his brother's door, and when he answers, insists on dragging him off to see a surprise that he has for him.]

It's in here. Go ahead, go inside.

[ It may not be the most ideal, but to be honest Dorian is happier than he can ever remember being. The past few months of chatting with Orym on the stones, getting to visit him as often as he’s able to. He hoards all those moments together deep in his heart, even if he’s sure that these feelings would drive him mad.

And through it all, he’d tried to come up with plans - trying to figure out a way to take Orym away from that life, to find a way to someday provide for him. He knows he’s still a long way from that, but it’s something he can eventually work towards.

When he finds his thoughts once again drifting to Orym, as they often do, he pulls out the Sending Stone to call up the halfing. But after a while of receiving no answer, he starts to worry. Did something happen?

It’s during a moment of panic when his brother finds him, and he isn’t able to stop him as Cyrus drags him off to another room. ]

Cy, please, I don’t have time for this…

[Cyrus rolls his eyes for dramatic effect and gives his brother a little shove towards the door.]

Then stop stalling, open the door, and then you can get back to whatever you were doing, if that's what you want.

[Cyrus has a feeling that Brontë will not want that at all. Really, he's way too pleased with himself for this.]

I put a lot of thought into this, you know. You shouldn't be so unappreciative when someone gives you a present.

[Inside the room, Orym hears the muffled sound of voices and moves to stand. He doesn't know what to expect. His debt has been bought, so what does that mean for him? Is he meant to warm some rich stranger's bed now? For just a moment he considers fleeing out the doors and over the balcony. But where would he go? The brothel won't take him back, and while all he can think about is Dorian he doesn't even know how he'd begin to go about finding him -- or if Dorian would even want to be found.]

[ Dorian bites back a groan, running a hand down his face. A small part of him can tell that Cyrus seems to be beaming for some reason, but the rest of him that’s still worried about Orym doesn’t bother guessing as to why.

Still, the sooner he gets this over with, the sooner he can get back to trying to reach the halfling. ]

Fine, all right. Let’s see what this present is.

[ Taking a breath, he turns to the doors and slowly pushes them open.

And freezes. ]

…Orym?

[Of all the things that he's expecting, the door opening to reveal Dorian standing there is not anywhere even close. The halfling goes still as well, green eyes widening as he stares at the other man in surprise and confusion,

And a wash of relief that is so strong it nearly floors him, that he isn't going to never see him again.]

Dorian...

[Cyrus glances between the two of them and smiles, though pauses on confusion.] Dorian? OH. Oh right, yeah, right. Dorian. Anyway, surprise little brother.

[ Dorian is caught in indecision for a moment, not sure whether to demand what the hell Cyrus had done or rush to Orym and gather him into his arms. Eventually he does turn to his brother, leveling a finger at him. ]

You and I are going to talk later.

[ And his tone hints that it isn’t going to entirely be pleasant.

But that attitude drops as he turns back to Orym and quickly crosses the distance between them, until he’s close enough to drop to his knees in front of him. And while he doesn’t quite pull the halfling into his arms, he can’t help cradling his face in his hands. ]

Are you okay? No one hurt you, did they?

[Cyrus shrugs. Sure they can talk! He's not entirely certain why Brontë seems to cranky about this. This is for his benefit! So the pining and heartache can stop.]

Sure, we'll talk later, Bron.

[Most people say thank you for presents. Ah well.

Orym is still staring as he starts to put together what's happened here, bit by bit. Clearly this was not Dorian's idea, and he's not sure where to begin. But then those hands are at his face and the tension in him eases. He sets a hand over one of Dorian's, leaning into the touch.]

I'm good, yeah. I'm not hurt. They told me someone had bought my debt...

[A glance past Dorian at Cyrus, who waves. Yes, that was him. He is the mastermind. ...and it's about here he mutters something about giving them privacy and moves to leave, shutting the door behind him.]

And they brought me here. They didn't even let me get my things, so I couldn't let you know...

[ Dorian’s eyes widen a bit. Cyrus bought Orym’s debt? But then that would mean…

He finally looks back in Cyrus’ direction just in time to see the doors close behind his brother. Grumbling a little under his breath, he turns back to Orym. ]

Orym, I’m so sorry. Honestly, I didn’t know about any of this. But I’ll make sure we get your things back, I promise.

[ Though he knows Orym doesn’t own a lot, the few possessions he does have are important to him. And he won’t let them be lost with whatever Cyrus has done. ]

[Orym glances back to Dorian after that door shuts as well. He shakes his head at the apology.]

I know you didn't. You would've said something.

[He's certain Dorian would have asked his permission first -- though really, Dorian seems to be the only person who truly cares about that.]

They said they'd send them. [He doesn't have much, but his sword and shield are important. And the sending stone and the sheet music that Dorian had given him.

He hesitates before asking the next question.]

Are you upset that I'm here?

[Because it keeps echoing in his mind that Dorian didn't ask for this. Dorian didn't ask for him.]

[ He isn’t entirely sure he trusts them to handle Orym’s things, given how Orym’s been treated all this time. ]

I’ll make sure it’s all taken care of.

[ He’ll see to it personally.

Dorian certainly would have asked before doing anything, but he had avoided this course of action specifically. Particularly for the implications of it. ]

I…no, not that you’re here. What bothers me is how it was handled. Purchasing your debt like that…it just means that you’re indebted to us now.

[ Like his family owns Orym now, and the thought churns his stomach. ]

It makes you being here no better than being back there.

[Orym doesn't know what to say to that, not at first. Dorian is right, of course. He's still beholden to the holder of his debt, but now it's Dorian's family -- the Wyvernwinds. Well he'd always known that Dorian came from some noble house.

He looks down then, frowning faintly. His life hasn't been his own for a while, he realizes. Now he's effectively been purchased for Dorian. And there it is, the one thing that being here has that the brothel doesn't, and it's the man kneeling in front of him. If he can't belong to himself, well, being Dorian's would be his only other choice.

Dorian clearly isn't pleased about it though.]

They might take me back, if you contacted them about it.

[He's certain it'd add to his debt, but he can deal with that.]

[ Dorian watches Orym, trying to take in his reaction even as his mind is racing. So when Orym looks away, he mistakes it as the halfling’s disappointment, maybe even something worse for the situation he’s now ended up in.

And as much as it hurts, Dorian can understand that. This is certainly the last thing he wanted. He never wanted to own Orym, like he was some sort of property. He wanted Orym to be free, to have a choice of where he wanted to go, who he wanted to be with.

And selfishly, he never wanted Orym to see him like this; to know who he had to pretend to be as Brontë Wyvernwind, the Secondsun of a powerful noble family who didn’t always measure up to the expectations his parents placed on him. He’d always felt more like himself as Dorian, especially when he was with Orym.

But now that Orym was here, he would see him being Brontë all the time, and the halfling was meant to be…what, his servant? His attendant? Something…else? What had Cyrus planned when he’d bought Orym’s debt to “give” the halfling to him anyway?

Whatever his brother’s intention, it all settles uncomfortably in his stomach. But so does the thought of sending Orym back to the brothel. As bad as this situation is, he can at least make sure Orym is treated well here. And it gives him more time to figure out a way to free him, without worrying that something might happen to him when he isn’t there.

Here, he can at least protect Orym.

So he shakes his head and hesitantly, as if afraid that it wouldn’t be welcomed, he reaches to take Orym’s hands in his own. ]

No…I’ll figure something out. You’ll be safe here, and I’ll take care of everything.

[ I’ll take care of you. ]

[Orym doesn't really know the intention either, what exactly Cyrus may have had in mind. What's expected of him here. It's all sort of a whirlwind that he's still trying to wrap his mind around. And even with all of it, so much of him is just glad that Dorian is here, that if nothing else he has some hope for being in the other man's presence more now.

That's a selfish thought, he realizes, but he has it regardless.

The words make his heart clench in his chest. There's Dorian taking care of him again. It's still as startling as it had been that first night when Dorian had used his magic to heal him, had spent the night talking and holding him -- as startling and as quickly spreading a fluttery warmth through him.

He looks at those hands reaching for his and does not reach back. Instead he steps past those hands and wraps his arms around Dorian's neck in an embrace, hooking his chin over his shoulder.]

If you don't want me in your bed anymore, [He'll just ignore how that thought stings, hopes Dorian doesn't notice the faint flinch in him as he speaks the words.] I could find a way to be useful. I'm good with a blade. I'm good with my hands.

[ Dorian’s breath hitches softly, surprised when those arms come around him instead. Immediately he wraps his arms around Orym’s waist in return, holding him close as he releases a shaky sigh. ]

I don’t want you to be “useful”, Orym. I just want you to be you.

[ It’s all he’s ever really wanted, and he would take Orym any way he could have him. But he wants it to be Orym’s choice, not because he had to be here.

Gently tightening his hold around Orym, his fingers tangle in his shirt. ]

I’ll fix this…I promise.

[Those arms come around him and the halfling goes nigh on boneless in Dorian's arms, holding tightly to him. Orym doesn't want to be owned either, and he doesn't want Dorian to feel obligated to take care of him because of all this.

He wants to ease the tension he can feel in the other man, soothe away that stress.

Turning his head, his lips are close enough to brush against the shell of Dorian's ear as he speaks, voice barely above a whisper.]

Then let me be me...

[He touches a kiss just beside his ear, another down the edge of his jaw, slow and deliberate.]

[ Dorian shivers as those lips brush against his ear, feeling those words more than hearing them. Then those lips trail kisses along his face, and he can’t help a soft sound that escapes his lips. ]

Orym…

[ He can’t help thinking this feels a bit wrong. Orym doesn’t have a choice being here anymore, he shouldn’t take advantage of him like this. But he’s much too weak to resist those gentle touches, or the feeling of that familiar warm body against his own. ]

[There. That's better. Maybe for a little while longer, Orym can pretend that Dorian wants him. It's a selfish impulse, but he's too weak not to give into it. So instead he leans back at the sound of his name with a smile.]

Dorian.

[Whatever his real name might be, he's Dorian for Orym, the gentle, kind, awkward, clever man that he's come to know.]

When they brought me here... the thing that hurt the most was not knowing if I'd ever see you again. I couldn't even use the stone to talk to you. But you're here.

[And that is a gift that Orym will not turn away. This time his lips brush against Dorian's -- a lingering, tender kiss.]

[ His heart skips, hearing Orym say his name - the name he chose, that feels more like his real name than the one he was born with. Hearing Orym call him that has his heart melting, and he can’t help returning the kiss. ]

I was worried too. I tried calling you earlier, and when there was no answer, I was scared something happened to you.

[ He slips him another quick kiss, reaching up to cup Orym’s cheek. ]

I’m glad you’re all right.

[The halfling seems relieved that Dorian kisses him back. This is what he knows. And he knows there's something twisted up about it, that it only muddies the water between them further -- that the things he truly wants are still so unlikely and out of his reach, that really loving and having Dorian is still at best a fantasy.]

I'm all right now.

[He answers in the wake of that next kiss, leaning into that touch once again.]

I've missed you.

[ This is definitely much more inappropriate now, but Dorian is too weak to resist as he gently stokes Orym’s cheek. ]

I’ve missed you too.

[ Even with all the trouble this has caused, he is glad that Orym is here, safe for the moment at least. ]

[Intensely inappropriate. But at the same time, Orym is at least a little relieved that for once Dorian isn't paying for their time together. Of course, there's the nagging voice at the back of his head that reminds him that's because his time is already purchased.

But he wants to give this to him. He's always wanted to give this to him. So he smiles and turns to nuzzle into that hand at his cheek.

One arm unwraps from where it's been looped around his neck to settle his hand against Dorian's chest. He steps closer now to kiss him again. This is so much easier than thinking.]

[ As conflicted as he feels about all of this - knowing that Orym is now technically in his service, is technically working for his family - he’s much too weak to resist as Orym kisses him.

With a soft sound, he pulls the halfling closer, one arm still wrapped around his waist as his hand slides to the back of his head, combing through his short hair. The worry he’d felt earlier and the frustration at this situation is eased for the moment, as he quickly gets swept up in the familiar feeling of Orym’s presence and warmth. ]

[There's relief that rushes through him as he's pulled in closer. This is what he knows, and being close to Dorian is where he wants to be. He can try to forget all the complications and conflicted thoughts, can instead just lean into the warmth of those arms, into kissing him.

He rises up on his toes to chase that kiss deeper. If nothing else, he'll be close to Dorian now, for as long as this lasts.]

[ He shivers, already overwhelmed by how Orym invades all his senses. He tilts his head to slot their lips together, even as he gently runs his tongue over Orym’s lips, wanting to taste him even more.

With the stress of all this looming over them, he just wants a moment for things to feel like they were. Where he can just pretend it’s only the two of them, tucked away from the rest of the world. ]

[If nothing else, Orym can at least be pleased that this means he won't have to have anyone else's hands or lips on him other than Dorian's. It's a relief, really. More and more it had been difficult to not be wishing that every client he took to his bed was Dorian instead.

He really has been setting himself up for heartbreak all this time. He imagines he's still on that path.

Doesn't matter though. Right now all that matters is parting his lips at the brush of that tongue to welcome the kiss deeper. He shifts closer to mold his body up and against Dorian, closing the space between them. Just let him pretend a little longer.]

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