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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Yeah, that's the word.

[He's oddly relieved at the touch and he doesn't hesitate to turn into it, chasing the feeling of affection he so desperately wants to be in it.]

I have never been anywhere near this fancy in my life.

[The Ashari live a significantly sparser life, closer to nature than anything else. That was beautiful too, in its own way. So was this place.]

[ He breathes a soft sigh, just Orym’s presence enough to immediately brighten his mood. ]

I’m not surprised, honestly. My family live in a class that most people might not believe is even possible.

[His family and him. Orym is realizing how incredibly unlikely it is that they even met to begin with given who Dorian is. Who Orym is. But somehow they did, and even if all this just adds to the list in Orym's head about why Dorian could never return his feelings -- feelings that he knows he shouldn't have, but does anyway.

At least he can be with him like this though, for as long as it lasts.]

You sort of had the air of nobility, you know. But... [He reaches a hand of his own out to settle against the other man's chest right above his heart.] ...gentler and kinder than a lot of people I've met who come from that kind of station. [Dorian never treated him like lesser, or like he was nothing more than a purchased commodity that he was entitled to. Instead it had all been tenderness and genuine sweetness and here's Orym, head over heels and so, so out of his league.]

[ Dorian can’t help blushing a little, placing his hand over Orym’s to press it to his heart as it flutters in his chest. ]

I’ve always…tried to treat people as best as I could. Everyone has their own story, and you never know what someone is going through. So I always try to give a little something that might help their story along.

But you… [ He takes Orym’s hand again, brushing a gentle kiss to the back of it. ] You have always been someone special.

[Orym's expression melts as he sees that blush, at the warmth of Dorian's hand settling over his own. There it is exactly, the things he had seen in Dorian ever since that first night, and every time they had met thereafter. Again and again.]

I could tell, right away. You sort of shine with it.

[He stills as his hand is lifted, as those lips kiss there once more. It's his turn to blush, vividly, breath catching.]

Don't... [A soft, breathy tone in his voice, hardly a complaint so much as a yearning for it to actually be something true.] You'll get my hopes up.

[ Dorian can’t help a bashful smile, even as he glances away. ]

Ah…thank you. I’m…glad that it’s noticeable.

[ It makes something in his chest swell, that someone like Orym thinks so at least.

But his smile softens, and he leans closer to brush another kiss to Orym’s forehead. ]

I’m only speaking the truth. I’ve never met anyone as amazing as you.

[The halfling's eyes flutter at the kiss to his forehead. This is all terrible for his heart, to have that surge of hope that he can't stop from rising at the sweet things that Dorian says, the gentle way that the other man touches him.

He shakes his head slightly.]

I'm no one, really. Just...

[Just a whore who has been foolish enough to fall in love with a handsome nobleman who somehow found his way into his life, made it a warmer, brighter place.]

It doesn't matter. I'm really glad I met you.

[ Dorian can’t help a small frown, his fingers gently tracing Orym’s cheek. ]

You’re someone to me.

[ Someone that he cares deeply about, even if he can’t find the right words to express how much. ]

And I’m really glad I met you as well.

[Dorian saying things like that will be the death of them, but Orym still soaks up the words greedily, even if he tries to keep it from fanning the flames of that hope in him.]

Then what more could I ask for? My Dorian.

[Whoever Dorian may be when he's walking these halls in front of everyone else, Orym may not know. But he knows who he is like this, in the quiet, when it's only the two of them.

He smiles at the words returned and leans closer to press a kiss to Dorian's lips.]

[ Dorian’s breath catches, Orym’s words causing his heart to flutter once again.

My Dorian.

Oh, if only that could be. To be Orym’s and nothing else, nothing would make him happier. But he knows they can’t…not like this. Not as long as the choice has been taken from Orym.

But he’ll find a way to fix this. He will.

He doesn’t have a chance to add anything, though, when Orym’s lips find his. And he knows that maybe they should keep some distance, whatever they might have had before muddled by Orym’s debt under the Wyvernwind name. But he is far too weak to the feeling of the halfling against him, the taste of him.

So with a smile he returns the kiss, his hand gently trailing from Orym’s cheek to the side of his neck. ]

[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.]

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