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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[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.]

[ It is a bit of a reassurance, at least, that Orym being here means that no one else will touch him. That no one will harm the halfling.

That he has him now, even if it’s far from the way he wanted.

Still, he can’t resist licking into Orym’s mouth proper, the all-too familiar taste of him causing his heart to flutter as he swirls his tongue around Orym’s. He holds the smaller figure flush against him, like Orym was just made to fit in his arms.

An often reoccurring thought he’s had before, which has only made it harder and harder to let him go. ]

[Orym loses a quiet moan to the kiss at the slick feeling of Dorian's tongue sliding against his own, hot and wet and utterly intoxicating. Kissing Dorian is so unlike kissing anyone else, thrilling and consuming and far too easy to lose himself in.

He does fit in those arms perfectly, like it's exactly where he's meant to be.

The halfling won't be any help in finding the wherewithal to put any distance between them.]

[ It’s so easy to lose himself in Orym, to forget everything else around him. So much so that when there’s suddenly a knock on the door, he startles back enough to break the kiss.

A servant on the other side calls for him - for Brontë - and Dorian winces, but places a finger to his own lips for Orym to stay quiet. After a few more moments, the footsteps retreat, the servant convinced that he’s not still there, and he breathes a sigh of relief. ]

Sorry. I, um…

[ Another disadvantage to them being here is that he - Brontë - is still expected to perform his duties. So their time together can’t always be just this. ]

[Orym looks startled by the sudden knock at the door, but he goes still and silent, holding his breath. He hears the call for Brontë, and he's clever enough to figure out what that means. He isn't surprised that Dorian gave a fake name, though somehow it doesn't feel fake. It feels like the person he'd been allowed to know, someone separate from the trappings of the life of nobility that took Dorian away from him for such long stretches.

He shakes his head.]

It's fine. Do you need to go?

[Orym hasn't moved away from him, not yet.] Dorian..? [Quieter, brow furrowing.] Should I call you Brontë?

[ He really considers just staying here with Orym for a while longer, damn the consequences. But if his parents think he’s getting too distracted, they could both get in trouble.

And he could deal with that himself…but he doesn’t want to think of what they might do to Orym. ]

…yeah, I have some…work that I should probably get back to.

[ He can’t help wincing, hearing his birth name coming from Orym’s lips. As much as he hates the idea of Orym calling him by that name, he eventually nods. ]

Probably. My parents…don’t really know about my “Dorian” identity yet.

[ And he’d really prefer to keep it that way. ]

But when we’re alone like this…I’m still just Dorian.

[A little nod. He won't stop Dorian from attending to what he needs to, even if Orym has no idea what to do with himself right now. He'll figure it out. At least the worst of his anxiety about never seeing Dorian again -- about Dorian wondering why Orym stopped answering him, why he'd disappeared without a word -- has been eased. He'll take that.

He sees that wince though, eyebrows lifting faintly.]

All right. I can manage that.

[He's close enough that he reaches up to tuck some of the bard's hair back behind a pointed ear, slipping a small mostly subtle sprig of blue flowers there was he does.]

Good. I like just Dorian.

[ He shivers a little as Orym tucks his hair back, drawing a soft breath as he feels the familiar tingle of gentle magic. Reaching up to touch the sprig of flowers, he gives the halfing a tender smile before he leans forward to press a soft kiss to his forehead. ]

Well…”just Dorian” is quite fond of you too.

[ A small slip of the deeper feelings he holds in his heart, but he can’t help saying at least a little bit of it now, as relieved as he is that Orym is here, and safe.

They can figure everything else out later. ]

I’ll send someone to show you around, so you can get familiar with the place. And then I’ll…see you later?

[ And at least there’s that now, that he can at least see Orym at the end of the day when he’s finished working. ]

[Funny how his heart goes and flutters at those words, dancing about in his chest all the more at the kiss to his forehead. He mentally curses at himself for that familiar surge of hope for things that he knows -- he knows -- can't be real.

He still can't help smiling up at him like Dorian's just given him a gift he doesn't know how to thank him for. A nod and he forces himself to take a step back.]

That'd be nice, thanks.

[If he's going to be staying here for a while. He does perk up as he adds,] Yeah, see you later.

[ His own heart skips at the smile Orym gives him. He knows things are complicated now, and Orym is only here because of a debt - a debt his family now owns to keep the halfling in their services - but can’t help the affection he feels for this other man.

He will find a way to make this right.

Gently taking Orym’s hand, he brushes a soft kiss over his knuckles before he finally rises to his feet. ]

Later, then.

[ And it is nice, knowing at least that seeing Orym is a certain thing this time.

Even so, it is a bit of a struggle to finally step back to head out of the room, to get back to working when all he wants is to stay with Orym. He does find another servant to ask them to show Orym around as he heads off, as well as head to his personal office to send a message to the brothel to ensure Orym’s belongings are delivered.

Then eventually he does get back to work, completing the tasks his parents have given him. He does find out that Cyrus has passed off Orym as a “personal servant” as a way to explain his presence to his parents (because the truth would certainly get all three of them in big trouble). He unfortunately doesn’t get a chance to talk with Cyrus about what the hell he was thinking, purchasing Orym’s debt, and explaining to his brother why this new situation isn’t ideal.

He will have to do that eventually, but for now his work keeps him extremely busy. In fact he doesn’t finish up working until late in the evening. He skips dinner, too busy to even eat, and by the time he finally returns to his room he’s just exhausted. ]

[Orym spends the first few minutes after Dorian leaves waiting for his brain to reset itself after that thoroughly devastating kiss to the back of his hand. How the hell is he supposed to not melt into an absolute puddle of a man after that?

He's pulled himself together by the time the other servant arrives enough that he can focus on the tour and just think about Dorian. Mostly. The Silken Squall is beautiful, airy and lovely and with a level of luxury that Orym has never experienced.

It's all a little intimidating, really. This is the life that Dorian -- Brontë, he reminds himself -- lives every day. It makes even the fantasy of being something more to Dorian than a distraction even more ridiculous. His showing up here must be such an inconvenience to him.

Eventually he's shown to what he's told will be his quarters, since he'll be the younger Wyvernwind son's personal servant. His guide puts a spin on those words as they deliberately look him over as if they know exactly what he is. In any case, he's shown to a small but comfortable room adjacent to Dorian's -- never before used, apparently, given that Master Brontë has never felt the need for an attendant before now. There's a door that connects his room to Dorian's chambers so he can be summoned easily, and Orym finds that proximity comforting at least.

There are far too many thoughts in Orym's head, but he is drawn out of his thoughts later in the evening when he hears movement in the next room. He hops up on his feet and moves for the connecting door, hesitating a moment before knocking.]

[ The knock at the door - not the main doors, but one off towards the side - startles Dorian a bit, not used to having anyone there. He looks up from where he’s lying face down on his bed, before he remembers who is supposed to be there. ]

Ah…come in, Orym.

[The halfling opens the door slowly and peeks his head in. Dorian is alone, and Orym exhales in relief and steps inside, pulling the door shut behind him.]

Long day? I can wait until tomorrow...

[He can see how Dorian has more or less flopped himself down on the bed.]

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