for Dorian (makingmyway) - Fuck or die ritual sex

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym doesn't know how they've gotten themselves into this.

They'd found themselves taking refuge in a temple to some minor deity that Orym had never heard of before. Bell's Hells had made their way inside, and for a while that was all the halfling knew. Not more than three steps into the temple and he'd collapsed, struck unconscious without even a moment to react. He'd later learn that the same had happened to Dorian -- though the rest of the members of the Hells had been entirely unaffected.

The appearance of the worshippers in the temple had been met with suspicion by most of their still-awake friends, but by the time Dorian and Orym woke up, it was clear that they had no chance but to take the offered help. The temple, it seems, has been in a sort of stasis, a waiting, for the right people to step inside. Some prophecy that is now being fulfilled with a halfling and an air genasi who did not sign up for this. But they are in it now, and there is only one way to survive this curse.

Orym awakes with a start. He finds himself laid out on a stone altar, though soft, silken fabric has been draped over it -- similar to the frankly flimsy material of the shift that he's been dressed in. There are flowers in his hair, and strewn around him and for once he's not the source of them. He glances to his left and sees Dorian there, still sleeping, dressed and adorned similarly. For just a fraction of a second, Orym feels his breath catch. Dorian looks too beautiful to be real, dressed in the same diaphanous white robes, adorned similarly with flowers. Concern takes over in the next moment and he reaches over to set a hand on his chest, shaking gently.]

Dorian? Dorian, wake up.

[He sounds a bit frantic, looking around and immediately noting that his weapons are nowhere nearby. He doesn't recognize this place, the chamber large and lit by firelight and moonlight. And they're alone. Where are the others?

What Orym, for all his perceptiveness, has not noticed, is the thin band of gold that circles his neck, nor the identical one around Dorian's. Those will be a problem he'll learn about shortly.]

Comments

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Those arms around him are better than he could have imagined, strong and secure and exactly where Orym wants to be. He melts into the other man, lips parting to welcome the kiss deeper, inviting Dorian to take, to taste, to explore.

What the halfling doesn't know at the moment is that the curse that they've fallen under is not above increasing the need that both of them are feeling, fueling desire with a magical aphrodisiac that will only increase with further touch. Maybe that'll make things easier to submit to being part of a ritual in view of a strange cult, or just more desperate. Time would tell.]

[makingmyway]

[ He shivers as he feels Orym's lips parting, and he takes the invitation to gently run his tongue along the other man's lips, before slipping inside to taste him properly with a moan, the halfling's taste and scent overwhelming him.

It almost felt like something was being ignited, slowly burning through his veins with each touch and brush against the halfling. It was slowly consuming him, and yet he still wanted to feel it burning completely. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym shivers at the first sensation of that tongue touching over his lips, He shifts forward, molding himself up against Dorian, closing any space left between them as if drawn by some force he couldn't resist if he tried. And he doesn't want to resist.

He lets his tongue slide along Dorian's, losing a soft sound to the kiss. Dorian is kissing him. The realization is amazing still, that Dorian feels the same for him.]

Dorian... [He murmurs his name straight to Dorian's lips.]

[makingmyway]

[ Dorian moans softly, shivering himself at the touch of Orym's tongue along his own. He pulls Orym as close as possible, and yet it somehow never feels close enough. He wants to feel more of the halfling against him, to feel more of the heat of his body against his.

He shivers as Orym's breath ghosts across his lips, and he breathes out a sigh. ]

Orym...please...

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Close is good. Close is very good, but Orym agrees. It's not enough, not yet. And already his fingers are catching int he filmy fabric of the robes that Dorian's body is draped in.]

Yes... gods, I need you...

[And it is a need. Urgent and consuming and to hell with anyone watching.]

[makingmyway]

[ Dorian swallows thickly; even the way the gown slides across his skin as Orym lightly tugs on it sending sparks of heat through his veins. ]

I need you too…I need you now…please, Orym…

[ It feels like it’s gotten so intense so suddenly, but he knows that if he doesn’t have the halfing he might very well go mad. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[At the back of his mind, Orym realizes that there's something driving the need in him hotter and more overwhelming, and he doesn't care. He has wanted Dorian for so long now, has wanted to tell him just how much, to kiss him and know the touch of those hands.]

Yes, you have me. Now. Always.

[Promises and demands both woven together as calloused fingers find their way to begin undressing Dorian -- pretty as the gown may be, it is in his way.]

[makingmyway]

[ Reluctantly Dorian shifts back a bit, just enough to help Orym in removing the gown. Fortunately for the two of them, that seems to be their only obstacle, as they were conveniently given nothing else to wear underneath.

The realization pulls a small growl from Dorian’s throat, as he surges forward to capture Orym’s lips again, intense and hungry, as his hands start to roam, eager to get the halfling undressed as well. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Oh, that is certainly a delightful discovery so far as Orym is concerned, that once he's managed to send that filmy material sliding down to the ground, there's nothing between Dorian and his hands. He looks up at the sound of that growl, feeling the way it makes something twist hot and tight and tingling between his legs.

His breath has already been stolen away, and then Dorian is kissing him and he forgets all about breathing anyway, kissing Dorian back with an answering hunger, and eagerness for more. He does what he can to help those hands deal with his clothes too. Once they're gone, he winds his arms around him, molding himself close against him, skin against skin now. Fuck.]

[makingmyway]

[ Dorian groans once the silky fabric has been shed, as he wraps his arms around Orym’s waist to press their heated flesh together. He grinds his hips against Orym’s, his cock pulsing as the ache burns deep in his core. ]

Orym…

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym hears himself moaning too, at the feeling of Dorian's arousal pressing against him, that very tangible proof that the other man wants him. His fingers curl against Dorian's back, nails pressing into skin.]

Dorian...

[His voice is breathless, roughened with the desire that's near overwhelming.]

Want you so much... [He brushes his nose along Dorian's cheek, lips tracing along his jawline.]

It's been a really long time... [Since he's been with anyone. Since he's wanted to be with anyone. A nip of his teeth at the edge of his jaw, and his lips are brushing Dorian's ear as he murmurs the next words directly to it.] Don't be gentle.

[makingmyway]

[ He shivers as those nails bite into his skin, sending another jolt that causes his cock to twitch. ]

Want you too… [ His own voice is gravelly, words hoarse with desperation. ] Need you…

[ Another shiver runs downs his spine at the touch of Orym’s lips, his teeth, his whole presence. But those words send something surging through him, and with another growl he kisses Orym again, holding him tight to his body as he gets to his feet, somehow managing to stumble his way back to the altar to press Orym down onto it. ]

Whatever you want, Orym…

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[The sound Orym makes in response to that growl comes from some place deep at the core of himself, a primal response to the yearning and need in him. He's still kissing Dorian as the other man stands, barely noticing that they're moving, at least until he feels the cool marble of the altar against his back.

He looks up at Dorian, green eyes dazed, clouded through with lust.]

I want everything, all of you. Forever.

[makingmyway]

[ The sound Orym makes almost seems to reverberate in his chest, sending a thrill rushing through him.

But Orym’s words somehow manage to cut through some of the haze, as the realization of what the other man is actually asking for fully hits him.

And he swallows the lump in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest. Because more than anything, he wants it too. ]

…You have me, Orym. All of me, always.

[ He’s always been Orym’s. So being his forever would be no different.

He doesn’t know how or why he knows to look, but his fingers feel around amongst the flowers until he finds a vial of oil, waiting there for use. Pouring some into his hands, he makes sure his fingers are thoroughly coated and the oil is warmed before leaning into to kiss Orym again, teasing a finger at his entrance before sliding it in. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym smiles at Dorian like he's just been given something immeasurably precious. And oh he has. Those words, that promise, there's nothing else that Orym could ever ask for. He's so in love with this man, has been falling for so, so long and now he's fallen straight into his arms.]

Always...

[He echoes softly. And Dorian has him, will always have him too. The halfling doesn't give his heart away easily, but it has been Dorian's for a long time now. Leaning up, he kisses him back, gasping against his lips at the feeling of that finger seeking inside him, the startled breath exhaled in a soft moan against his lips.]

[makingmyway]

[ Dorian can’t help smiling into the kiss, swallowing the sound Orym makes as he slides his finger in all the way to the knuckle, marveling at the velvet warmth of that tight passage. He twists his finger around a bit, before quickly adding a second, impatient to feel him around his cock. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym has forgotten every concern he had about the temple or the curse or whatever else may be going on. All that matters, all that could possibly matter to him, is Dorian.

Another groan as Dorian's fingers stretch him open. Dorian isn't the only one feeling impatient, and even if Orym knows he ought to let the bard take his time -- for the size difference between them alone -- he's too swept up in this overwhelming need, spurred on further by whatever magic is in the air.]

Dorian. Need you now. please.

[makingmyway]

[ Swallowing thickly, he nods and slowly withdraws his fingers. Then he steals a quick kiss before spreading the halfling’s graceful legs to settle between them and lines himself up with Orym’s entrance, shuddering as the head of his length brushes at the waiting hole. ]

Tell me…tell me if it’s too much.

[ Then he carefully - finally - slides into that tight passage, groaning at the grip of those muscles around his cock. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[It's too much and exquisitely perfect at the same time. Orym shifts his legs apart at that touch, pliant and flexible, and oh so eager. He can feel Dorian at his entrance, and that surge of need only spikes in him.

His voice escapes in a cry of bliss as Dorian is pushing inside him, as his body yields around that length. There's pain, but it pales in comparison to the pleasure of it, of knowing that Dorian is inside him, that they are joining together this way. Finally. Oh, finally.]

Dorian... it's perfect. You're perfect. Need you, need this.

[makingmyway]

[ Dorian groans, a low sound in the back of his throat, feeling those tight walls gripping around his cock. It burns straight into his core, the pulsing heat wrapping around him in a tight coil. ]

Gods, Orym…you’re perfect. Feel so good around me, so perfect for me.

[ Like the halfing was made for him. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, replaced instead by a soft moan. He's forgotten that he's laid out on an altar, that they're being used as some sort of ritual by a weird voyeuristic cult. None of that matters. Let them watch. Let them see. Dorian Storm is his, and Orym wants the world to know it.

Eventually he finds his voice]

Yes... gods...

[He reaches up towards him, urging him closer, until Dorian is bearing over him.]

Fuck me, love. Please.

[makingmyway]

[ Those sounds, those words seem to rumble through his entire body like thunder, and he answers with a growl as he leans over Orym.

Hooking his hands under Orym’s knees, he bends them to press them the halfling’s chest, bending him in half as he thrusts in again, hitting him even deeper. ]

Yes…as much as you want, as long as you want.

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[The sound of that growl, the way that Dorian bends him in half, does something to Orym, sparks something to burning all the hotter in him. Dorian will also find that the halfling is absurdly flexible, that there's no resistance in him as he's folded in two.]

A..ah!

[His voice leaves him as Dorian manages to drive himself even deeper inside him, fingers curling so nails press into the skin of Dorian's shoulders as Orym holds on for dear life.]

Dorian..!

[makingmyway]

[ Dorian isn’t at all surprised by how flexible Orym is, but it’s still incredibly arousing, imagining all the ways that flexibility could be put to use.

But for now he focuses on this, the bite of Orym’s nails grounding him back into this moment, and leaning more of his weight on Orym’s knees he pounds into the halfling at an almost frenzied pace, lost in the sensations, the feeling and sounds and presence of Orym. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[That frenzied, desperate pace is exactly what Orym wants. He wants to feel him, all of him, to be taken, claimed. And he'll stake his own claim too, in the marks that nails leave on soft blue skin as they drag down along his arms, his back, the way the fighter clings to him.

Orym is crying out, the sounds near sobs as he feels the way each thrust drives that pleasure higher in him, building and building.]