Orym of the Air Ashari (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bigmoonlittlemoon) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
formmusebox2023-03-28 01:14 am
bigmoonlittlemoon) wrote in formmusebox2023-03-28 01:14 am
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?]
[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…gods, I love you…
[ And it sends another sort of thrill through him, getting to be able to say it. ]
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Orym is not usually a crier, but something in him has shattered in the most blissfully amazing way with the realization that his feelings are returned. So there's no help for it now as tears gather and slip from his eyes as he moves with Dorian's thrusts, a familiar dance by now but somehow so much more meaningful.]
I love you too. So much, I... don't let me go, Dorian. Please.
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I won’t, Orym. I have you…will always have you. I promise.
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Always... [He echoes. Oh he loves the sound of that.]
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Come with me, Orym…
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He cries out, back arching nearly off the bed as one particular thrust finds that spot inside him. There's no way he could resist those words, the gentle command in them.]
Dorian..! [He comes hard, vision filling with a million stars, whiting out as the sensations wash over him and he spills himself between them, his release splashing against Dorian's stomach and his own.]
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Orym…! [ A few more shallow thrusts, and then he’s spilling himself into Orym, painting the halfling’s insides white as the hot pleasure crashes over him, drowning him completely. ]
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Mm... [A soft, contented little murmur, as he lifts his hands to brush back some of that pretty hair.]
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As the pleasure slowly settles into the syrupy-haze of the afterglow, he glances down at the halfling below him, pure adoration and love in his expression as he leans into Orym’s touch, before kissing him again, slow and tender and affection. ]