[He has never heard his name sound half so sweet as it did in that voice, in that tone, the desire and the need from the other man. It's enough that for a moment even the new and alient presence inside him loses any grip it might have on the halfling.
For a moment, an instant, Orym is Dorian's and Dorian's alone, as he's wanted to be for so long now.
But the moment passes and Predathos resurges -- though they certainly share this desire for the bard.
His hands grip at Dorian's hips, the invisible hands running up the back of his thighs, lifting his hips up as Orym begins to move, drawing back -- groaning at the way Dorian's passage grips at him -- before thrusting back inside, hard, claiming. Dorian is his, and he wants the other man to know it.]
no subject
[He has never heard his name sound half so sweet as it did in that voice, in that tone, the desire and the need from the other man. It's enough that for a moment even the new and alient presence inside him loses any grip it might have on the halfling.
For a moment, an instant, Orym is Dorian's and Dorian's alone, as he's wanted to be for so long now.
But the moment passes and Predathos resurges -- though they certainly share this desire for the bard.
His hands grip at Dorian's hips, the invisible hands running up the back of his thighs, lifting his hips up as Orym begins to move, drawing back -- groaning at the way Dorian's passage grips at him -- before thrusting back inside, hard, claiming. Dorian is his, and he wants the other man to know it.]