formmusebox | for Dorian (makingmyway)

for Dorian (makingmyway)

Dark Orym AU

[The world has changed significantly in the months since the Apogee Solstice. The ceremony, the plans of Ludinus Da'leth had not gone exactly as expected. But they had, in the end, been successful enough. Predathos itself had not been fully released, not physically, but the very essence of it had been called down from Ruidus, broken out of its chains and left with only one choice of where to go.

Orym had been in the wrong place at the wrong time -- or perhaps the right -- an attempt at dislodging the obsidian-like orb that had been the Raven Queen's Champion, the Tempest's Lover. The machine had fired anyway, and for the halfling who had been caught straight in that beam, everything was pain and red.

When he woke, he hadn't been himself. Not entirely. He remembered everything, knew who he was, but he was something more now, something that hungered for so much more than Orym had ever desired. His own desires remained, though they'd been turned to near desperate obsessions. He would not lose anyone else that he loved in this absurd struggle; he would not allow it. It was that reflexive need brought on the bright and blinding flash of light that sent Bell's Hells and their allies scattering to the winds, teleported far enough away to be safe in a very broad sense of the word.

As the lights faded and the smoke cleared, as Ludinus and the rest realized what had happened, Orym had felt this new power course through him. And soon everyone came to know it. He'd killed Da'leth and Thull with little more than a glance. A swift death was more than they deserved for what they had been responsible for, what they'd done to Will and Derrig, what they'd tried to do to Laudna. From there, well, Paragon's Call and the Ruby Vanguard answered to him now. Orym, formerly of the Air Ashari, now of the Red Moon. Soon the world would answer to him, and this ridiculous play of gods and monsters would be over.

At his command, his forces have been trying to locate and bring back the rest of his friends. If he can keep them close, he can keep them safe. By now though, he knows that his friends have banded together to fight him. It stings, of course it stings, but he knows that they just don't understand. It doesn't change that he cares for them, and his people have been given strict instructions that while Bell's Hells and the Crown Keepers are to be fended off, they are not be irreparably harmed. They are dear and precious to Orym, and his anger while still quiet and subdued is lethal these days.

He misses his friends. Most nights he holds the sending stone and calls out to Dorian, just wanting to hear his voice, to know that he is safe. But there never seems to be an answer. It doesn't stop him, and most nights the words are simple. 'I hope you're okay, Dorian. I just want to hear your voice again. I miss it. I miss you.'

Today the skirmish that has broken out has been a violent one. Sometime during the fighting, Dorian seems to have been separated off, and the bard has taken a significant amount of damage. Maybe that's what has brought Orym actually out to the battlefield. He so seldom joins the fight these days, but this.

This requires his presence.

Dorian is here. Of everyone that he's wanted to see, the Air Genasi is the one who has had his heart aching the most, the feelings that he'd done so much to try to hide for Dorian's sake, no longer feeling that need to be hidden. Who else could protect him better than Orym? No one. He can give Dorian the world if he wants it, anything.

So when Orym slips in on the edges of the fray, when he sees one of his mages level a spell that sends Dorian sprawling to the ground, the halfling's voice rings out, stern and unyielding.]

Enough.

[He punctuates the words with a gesture towards the Paragon's Call member who had made the attack. A crimson hand appears and wraps itself around their throat, squeezing the life out of the solider slowly.]

You will not hurt him.

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[ His heart skips as Orym comes close, and he shivers even as he lifts his arms to let him pull his shirt up and off over his head. ]

I felt the same…ever since we first met. But I didn’t think you’d felt the same, since…

[ Since they’d gone to find his late-husband’s murderers. ]

[Orym nods a little in understanding.]

I know.

[He does. He roped Dorian in to tracking down Will's murderers, because he'd come to trust the bard and Fearne like no one else he'd met since that terrible day.]

I felt like I was too damaged to say anything.

[A broken thing shattered by that tragedy. Dorian deserved better, than a heart that had been shattered and put back together with string and vines.]

I'm not broken any more. [Not with this entity inside him. There was no room any longer for grief or broken hearts. He would fix this world the same way that he had been fixed.

He eases that shirt up and off, letting it slip off the side of the bed, hand settling against Dorian's heart.]

[ Another shiver runs down his back, but he can’t help a frown at those words. He places his hand over Orym’s, pressing it against his chest so he would be able to feel his racing heart. ]

You were never too damaged or broken, Orym. You’ve always been the strongest person I’ve ever known.

[ And he had never needed some god-eater for that. ]

[There's an aching moment where Orym feels clearer minded than he has since Predathos crashed into him. He can feel Dorian's heart beating, and it makes his own falter. He loves him and has loved him and will love him, whatever may come.]

Dorian...

[It's all he can manage for a moment, just his name voice near to breaking on the syllables.]

[ Dorian smiles softly, a bit sadly, as his free hand gently catches Orym’s chin to tilt his head up, brushing his lips over Orym’s tenderly. ]

You’ve always been so strong, Orym. It’s one of the reasons I admired you, and why I was always willing to follow you, to the ends of the world.

But I never…I never realized how much pressure that put on you. How difficult it must be to feel like you have to be strong all the time, to feel like you have to take care of everyone else. How lonely it must be…and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like that.

[He lets his chin be tilted, eyes fluttering shut in that brief, gentle kiss. Orym can feel the pressure of tears threatening in his eyes, a soft ache at the realization that Dorian has really seen him all this time, not just the front he's always put up.

The god-eater hates this development, seething quietly for the moment.]

You never did. I was stronger for having you with me. [Someonw that he could trust and rely on, who he could be himself around, in those few moments where they had moments where they could be playful, silly.]

I'm still stronger with you near.

[ Dorian leans forward, gently resting his forehead against Orym’s. ]

I’m glad…if I could do that for you, if I was able to help you in any way, then I’m glad.

I would do anything for you, Orym.

Just stay with me. Love me.

[The halfling shuts his eyes and the entity inside him surges forward. That's right. He'll take that devotion. He'll take it and reward it with a world broken and remade, one he can lay at Dorian's feet as a gift.

He sets a hand against Dorian's cheek.]

Let me love you.

[ Unaware of how the presence in Orym is affecting him, Dorian nods. ]

I…I want that, more than anything. To love you…to be loved by you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

Then you have it. You have me.

[And with that Orym surges forward to kiss him again, all heat and need. The thing inside him had latched onto that lust, easier to deal with that than the overwhelming feeling of truly being loved this way.]

[ He doesn’t have a chance to answer before Orym is kissing him again, and he’s once again caught off-guard by the near ferocity in it. He can’t help a small moan, the force of it leaving him a little lightheaded, and he’s more than willing to give in to this, to Orym.

To let Orym do whatever he wanted to him. ]

[Predathos whispers a soothing assurance to Orym that this is fine, that they will protect this together, that nothing will be allowed to take Dorian for them. They can have this.

It will be fine.

Orym pours himself into that kiss, to swallowing down that pretty moan and urging Dorian back. His hands run up that bared chest, fingers exploring skin. So maybe it will be a bit of a surprise when it feels like there are also hands at the bard's hips, easing his trousers and underthings down those long, lithe legs. Those hands are entirely unseen, little pieces of the power that has become second nature to the halfling in such very short time.]

[ Dorian leans back at that gentle urging, until he’s lying on his back on the bed with Orym on top of him. His breath catches softly as those fingers brush over his chest, leaving a trail of heat in his skin in their wake.

But then there’s what feels like a second pair of hands loosening his pants, and he gasps, drawing back enough to try and look, but seeing nothing there he glances up at Orym in surprise. ]

Orym…?

[Orym looks down at him before his expression melts into a smile.]

Sorry, I was being impatient.

[He leans in to brush his nose along Dorian's, all affection, distraction perhaps from how big a change his casual use of magic is.]

Just a little magic, my love. Nothing to worry about.

[ He takes a breath, calming himself down a bit. It had been a bit surprising, especially given how little magic Orym had known before.

But that touch is certainly distracting, and as he nuzzles back he nods. ]

All right. I was just…not expecting that, is all. But I’m okay, really.

Good...

[Orym smiles at him, stealing a briefer kiss from his lips as his hand continues its path up Dorian's side, over that toned chest, fingers finding and toying with a nipple, teasing until they can feel the bud harden beneath his attention.]

You might even enjoy it... [And as if to emphasize, there's the feeling of an unseen hand trailing up Dorian's leg, up his inner thigh, skirting close but not quite touching his arousal.]

[ He shivers, his skin tingling as Orym’s hand trails across his body, and a soft mewling sound escapes him as those calloused fingers coax his nipple to hardness.

But the touch of that invisible hand cause him to jump slightly, and when it comes close to his arousal but doesn’t touch he moans needily. ]

O-Orym…

[The sounds that Dorian makes drive him wild, set what is already a burning desire into an outright inferno. Orym has always been so self contained, always so even-keeled and still, but there is nothing contained or still about him now.

And only so much of that can be blamed on this new presence inside him. So much of the cause is this desire that he has kept bottled up for far too long.]

I'm here...

[He promises. Unseen fingers continue their tease, but it's his own hand that wanders its way down to let his fingers slide along Dorian's cock, tracing the shape of him, wanting to learn this part of him as well, learn what else will draw such pretty sounds from the other man.]

[ Dorian whimpers when the ghostly hand still doesn’t touch him directly, but he gasps sharply when Orym finally does, and his hips jerk up into the touch. Lying completely naked under the halfling as he is, the thought of additional hands - magic or not - sends a rush of heat straight through him, his cock twitching at the idea of being so completely at Orym’s mercy.

And he wants it, wants to be that vulnerable to him. ]

P-Please…Please, Orym…

[Well, fuck. Orym has no real defense against this man. Here is his greatest weakness made flesh, because what would he not give to Dorian when he's pleading with him so sweetly?]

Please what, my love?

[His hand wraps around his length and Orym wants so much as well. He wants to taste him, to take that arousal into his mouth and find out the feeling of him on his tongue. He wants to hold the other man down, trap him motionless as he rides his cock until Dorian is desperate for release. He wants to spread the other man until he's bared before him, to bury himself inside Dorian and fuck him until the bard understands how much he's wanted.

And oh they have time for all of it. But where to start.]

Tell me what you want from me, and it's yours.

[ Another gasp as Orym’s hand wraps around his cock, and he breathes out a ragged moan, his fingers tangling in the sheets beneath him as he tries to concentrate enough to form words. ]

Please…fuck me, Orym…claim me, take me apart.

[ He glances up, his eyes shining with desire as he meets Orym’s gaze. ]

Make me yours.

[His fingers tighten around him, a brief squeeze before he strokes at him languidly, thumb teasing over the head of his arousal to collect and smear the moisture he finds there down along the length of him.]

You are mine...

[Orym murmurs with a smile.]

And I'll show you that right now, beautiful. You'll look so pretty coming apart under me, begging me for more.

[His free hand reaches out and the bedside drawer opens, a small glass bottle flies towards his fingers.]

Turn over for me?

[ He breathes in sharply at the sudden tight pressure around him, but the shift to a gentle stroke leaves him shuddering. The promise in Orym’s words pulls a soft whimper from this throat, already leaving him wanting for it.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he nods and carefully shifts, sucking in a breath as his sensitive arousal brushes against the bed below him. ]

Perfect... So good for me.

[Orym murmurs softly, gentle and sweet praise like one might offer to a favored pet to encourage exactly the behavior he wants to see. He smiles, a brief flicker of red in those otherwise clear green eyes, his hand caressing up along the back of Dorian's thigh, up over his ass in a soft, almost affectionate gesture.]

I have wanted you for so long.

[And now he would have him. Unseen hands grip at Dorian's hips, lifting them, an equal pressure on shoulders keeping his chest held to the bed as Orym takes the liberty to position the other man where he wants him. It may be a bit revealing, a bit vulnerable, entirely wanton. His own hand is the one to thumb open the bottle, to begin drizzling the softly scented oil over his ass, his hole, fingers moving to massage there gently.]

[ The words cause his heart to skip, even just that bit of praise sending a rush through him. And he can’t help a soft sound at the gentle touch, leaning back into it for more.

But then invisible hands are arranging him, and his breath hitches as his hips are positioned while his upper body is held down. His blush darkens, reaching the tips of his ears as he’s made so exposed, and yet his cock still twitches at the thought of being so open for Orym. ]

Mm…me too. So long…

[ He shivers as the oil dribbles over him, and a moan immediately rises from his throat at the touch of fingers to his rim. ]

O-Orym…

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