[Dorian considers ignoring that and continuing to come onto Larus (it's easier than trying to dig into what happened earlier), perhaps pushing him down into the seat cushions to press his mouth against the soft column of his throat. But it's an innocent enough question. It isn't as if he's asking him to answer for any of his behavior earlier. It's being let off easy-- although in the other man's case, it's always a possibility that he simply wasn't hurt enough by it to care, or that he just shrugged it off entirely. It's always difficult to tell with Larus.
Dorian sits up, giving himself just enough room to think, and pushes a handful of curls out of his face with the butt of a palm. A short exhale of breath, of the coiled-up energy inside, helps him redirect his thoughts.]
That I'm glad you're motivated to not to throw yourself into the void sooner than your time.
[A hand comes out to trail fingers down Larus' chest. It's an affectionate, if amorously-tinged, touch.]
I think there's something here between us. Something more than just the whole contracted partners arrangement. [He knows what it is on his side, but he'll be damned before he comes out with it so soon. It'd be too much all at once.] All I did while I was out is decide that I wanted to seize it while it's still there-- while you're still here.
[ With that lull between Larus' question and Dorian's response, he watches him. Some of the ways he moves reminds him of someone so young at times, sweet and innocent, and it certainly doesn't help that Dorian has an attractively youthful face. Not that Larus had been particularly moved by it at first; he'd been intrigued by the words, his actions. But now that they've spent more and more time together, it's grown on him. He's beautiful in ways that have nothing to do with his outward appearance, and even in the black stains that streak through him, the mystery and the moods, he's stunning.
It's that thought that catches him before Larus finally decides to digest what he says.
Something between them? Of course there is. As if he would ever give it a name, but the things he's said and what he's done for him, even if Dorian isn't entirely aware of it, says that to be true. He likes him, but there's more to it than that. Even if it's a mess, one Larus will struggle with because he doesn't want to be with Dorian and think of Casimir. Slowly, he unwinds it all and compartmentalizes those things, letting his fingers curl gently around the wrist of the hand at his chest. Just to hold on. ]
It's why I wanted to see you earlier, [ he admits slowly, having desired the closeness they've come to have between each other. ] Because something is there. Is this how you want it to be?
[ He means seizing it, making it theirs, but for once, Larus isn't even entirely sure what he means. ]
[Larus is always pushing him for honesty, and sometimes before he's willing or able to give it. Always pressing him to give up the enchantment, mystery, and artifice, and in ways the vampire may not even be aware of. It's as if the man doesn't have a concept of the idea that life imitates art, or that the illusions people maintain are part of what makes them worth any attention at all-- for the pleasure of witnessing their attempts at creation through living, or in the taking of all of that apart to find the raw and contradictory truths lying beneath. But Larus is blunt, always, and alive in a way that grates against the numbness in Dorian's heart.
In its own way, for that unwillingness to abide the mystery for long, this thing that's happening between them is something new. Something he might need. He doesn't know yet, but he's made up his mind to pursue and see what comes of it.
That sense makes Larus' question an easy one to answer. After all, he considered this while wandering the city. He wants what's been happening between them, and also doesn't have anything to lose. Not anymore.
And if it's all poised to get taken away at any moment, doesn't that just make it easier to give in?]
Yes. [The fingers against Larus' chest curl into the fabric there, gathering it up.]
Get entangled with whoever you want, and take as many or as few lovers as suits you. [He doesn't care. He's not the jealous type, and is more than likely prone to running wild in the city himself. To that end, he already has.] But at the end of it all, covered in blood and whatever else, we come back to each other.
[It's not much different than what they've already been doing already, but this sets it in stone. That this is the primary relationship either of them will have.]
It's a ridiculously romantic notion, one that settles heavy in his chest as it becomes more apparent that this is, in fact, something tender. Something to cherish and cultivate. In a place like this, it's probably impossible to stay monogamous, how everything is pushing everyone into situations that are different or uncomfortable, but in some ways, it's also a challenge to be present in what they make of their lives, how they revolve around the ones who are important enough to them to risk everything. Now, more than ever, Dorian is that person, and even if it's temporary, even if it's fleeting and likely to go unremembered, at least he would have had something in his time here.
Larus tilts his face to look at him, wanting the touch and his warmth and whatever else that comes with it. His secrets, his truths, his cruelty and his kindness. Because it will be tested, constantly and without fail. They will suffer more than the strains of a relationship only affected by normalcy, and it's something he's allowing himself to have even as he accepts that it might not be forever. ]
I've always come back to you, Dorian.
[ Soft words, gentle agreement. It's all he thinks that needs to be said right now, pushing up to close the gap he's created and taking a kiss of his own. There's no roughness to it, but he seeks the same sort of depth as Dorian had when he'd thrown himself at him without explanation the moment he'd returned. ]
[He's getting used to looking for meaning in both Larus' words and actions. His words in this case fall on Dorian's ears like "This has already been happening", and the kiss he presses to his lips is additional acknowledgement and acceptance. It's a searching for intimacy, and a deepening of feeling.
It's a depth Dorian's prepared to give, and that he needs to seize for himself, too. Now that they've come to an agreement, all there's left to do is push at this thing building between them and to take it as far as it'll go. To see what shakes out. Dorian parts his lips, leaning in and drawing Larus closer, his fingers slipping into the depths of the vampire's soft, thick hair, and bringing his body to press flush against the other man's.
There's nothing left to hide, and that notion alone is freeing. Thaws a fraction of the ice encasing his heart and soul both, and that had settled there after confirmation that everything left of Toby that could ever return to him again had burned away in a pit of Satanic flame.]
[ Many times, words are overrated. Larus finds that to be true about this moment as it is, grateful for the weight of Dorian against him as he sinks into the cushions beneath.
His mind flits to the first time they'd been in this exact same position. The first time they'd touched, the first time he'd been with someone else that didn't smell like incense or the sun on dark skin, and it's a little freeing to be so focused on Dorian rather than a memory of his life in a place on pause. There's the hint of whatever he'd had to drink, but it's dulled, a rush of breath against the mouth on his as his fingers slowly inch under Dorian's clothes to explore the familiar heat of his body. He'd like him close, even closer than this, and Larus shifts to part his legs, a knee bent to rest against the back of the sofa to accommodate him between his thighs.
Larus breaks the kiss and nudges his forehead against Dorian's. ] I want you.
[ In every way, as much as or as little as Dorian is willing to give. It's yet another confession, confirmation of whatever this is and his feelings. He won't speak of them yet, might not ever really admit to them, but like this, it's just a little easier to expose those thoughts to him. ]
[His tongue is trailing hotly along the edge of the inside of a chill mouth, when he feels Larus spread himself out for him. Open up to him. Yes, this is what he wants, and something that's necessary right now. Dorian accepts the invitation as offered without words, and better fits their hips together as he presses himself into the space that's been made. If he sits up slightly, puts any distance between them, it's only to start the process of getting the long line of buttons trailing down the length of his torso undone.]
Turn over. [It's more suggestion then command, coming off the tail end of the conversation they'd just been having. Dorian pulls at the fabric of his own shirt, shrugging his way out of it, discarding it onto the floor without a second thought.] It'll be easier that way on the couch.
[Because they're certainly not going anywhere if he can help it, and he also wants Larus to give himself up to him in this way. So he can watch the way the muscles of his back flex in the midst of pleasure. So he can grip at his hair and make him arch gorgeously for him when the throes of ecstasy hit.]
[ It's a quiet offering for more, and without weighing on it too heavily, he concedes. But he still does it on his own time, tilting his head just enough to press his mouth against the column of Dorian's throat. His pulse, a promise to keep it safe. And then, no longer hesitating, Larus moves.
He tugs his shirt over his head so that it joins Dorian's on the floor, opening his pants to help in any way that he can before he rolls over. It's the sort of connection he'd wanted the first time, lifting his hips just enough to push the material down to his thighs and bare himself to the other man. In that moment, he desires the warmth of him everywhere—behind him, around him, inside him. Larus feels it down to the marrow, lips pressing together with the anticipation of it as he settles into that all too familiar feeling until he's compelled to say something. ]
Please.
[ Said softly, politely. Not so much begging as it is accepting, though there's a slight edge to it that he knows Dorian would appreciate. He's not in the habit of asking, so he won't, but the amount of trust that he offers him is explicit and visceral, enough that he knows it'll eventually tear him apart all on its own. ]
[Dorian lays a single appreciative touch on the other man's back once he's turned over, and then parts from Larus briefly to shift off the couch and find his feet. He's gone for a moment, and when he returns it's with whatever lubricant he'd been able to find first. Replacing it seems to (of course) be part of the maid service that passes through the different rooms in the tower every so often. Right now, Dorian couldn't care less what kind it is or where it's from, simply that it's there in a moment where they need it.
He joins Larus on the couch again, shifting comfortably onto his knees, one hand working at the fastening of his pants. A grip at Larus' hip pulls him closer, and against the warm, and stiffing ridge of his cock. Dorian exhales softly at the feeling, his fingertips scraping bluntly over the pretty white flesh bared before him. Over everything that's going to be his again, and soon.
It's a stirring thought, one that makes him keen on not wasting much time in this.]
Ask me again. [He didn't get to enjoy hearing it the first time. The patience he has in this moment is limited, though, so it's not a tease. And as he asks, he's spreading a certain amount of lubricant over his fingers to make quick work of preparing the other man.]
[ Being left alone as he partially rests on his hands and knees on the couch feels oddly vulnerable. Exposed, maybe. But it's not as if Larus is shy about any of this, finding it a far more pointless quality in himself than others, and he presses back into the touch when he senses Dorian's return, dropping his head slightly to focus on the feel of his fingers. ]
Dorian –
[ The sound gets stuck in his throat, swallowing around it as Dorian stretches him. It's somewhere in the middle of it that Larus realizes the things he'd said had been a request, fingers curling against the cushion beneath him as he arches into the warmth behind him. ] Please. [ Still soft, not quite begging because he knows they both want this. ]
I can take it, [ he says after another few seconds, edging his knees apart to give them both more room. ] Just do it.
[ Because the lack of prep isn't going to hurt him that much, and really, all Larus wants is Dorian so close he can practically taste him, head filled with the ricochet of his heartbeat and relaxed enough beneath him he won't fight it. He isn't sure that he ever will. ]
[Far be it from him to not accommodate that request when it's something they both want and it's being asked for so attractively. Dorian takes a moment to drink in the sight stretched before him with his aesthete's eye, the delicate arching of Larus' back and the curl of his hair splaying over faultless skin, and feels the vision pull straight through him in a wave of desire, all of it amplified by the notion that this is what they'll be falling into those times when they shuck off the city and find each other again.
It's another sure sign that he's falling, plunging headfirst into wrapping himself and his immortal life around this man, and right now he couldn't care to spare a single thought more to that realization.
When Dorian takes his cock in hand and pushes inside Larus, it's in a steady and unrelenting slide that between them has become a form of rough-edged affection. Larus said that he could take it, and after the last time they'd had sex, Dorian knows that he doesn't have to hold back anything with him. It's ideal: He can cut loose and both of them will enjoy every moment of it. Dorian draws a sharp breath as he seats himself fully, the now familiar feeling of tight chill drawing him in pulling all of his attention and instantly igniting the need for more. His fingers bite into Larus' hips as he draws the softness of skin hard against him, needing to bury himself as deeply into the other man as his body will allow.
He doesn't seek out whether Larus is ready for more, knows it's a moot question between them, and simply gives himself over to chasing their pleasure without any warning. His first thrust is hard, bracing, and everything he's been craving from the moment he barged into their suite and dragged Larus to him for a kiss. Dorian pauses only to push his own pants further down his legs to prevent the fabric from dragging against Larus' skin and slowing him, before he starts fucking into his lover with precise abandon, his gaze following the flexing and subtle spasming of the taut musculature of the pretty plane of skin stretched out before him.
Beautiful, of course. But then he's always thought so from the moment they met.]
[ He likes the sound of his voice, he decides, in that moment. His accent, the sincerity of those words carving a place in his heart as he slides into him and settles. It's genuine, then. All of it, every moment they've shared and the ones Larus has yet to count. He can suffer at the hands of this city and whatever it does to him, but as long as he has this tucked safely away, it doesn't matter. He'll survive it, like he always does. It will become their new normal, no longer dancing around some unspoken thing they haven't addressed or given a name too.
It still has no name, but they're closer to it than before. That's enough.
Larus doesn't fight it when Dorian thrusts into him. He relaxes, doesn't make a sound as he pushes so deep that it's almost what he wants—to have him crawl so far inside him there's no ending or beginning to either of them. To share the same heartbeat, to share whatever else remains of himself that could be called human. It's an overwhelming impression that he makes an effort to bury as he leans into the hard rhythm that Dorian sets for them both. Good. He wants to feel it, wants to feel him, and it erases every other thought in his head as he rocks back against him each time they come together.
The pleasure is already sharp, but he doesn't reach down to touch himself, squeezing his eyes shut to center on everything about the man behind him. How he'd give him whatever he wanted, dangerous knowledge in the scheme of it all. But for now, this is all that he has to offer, and Larus urges him into a faster pace, needing nothing else and wanting no one else but him. ]
[It's not going to last long like this, but Dorian doesn't care. Maybe it's fitting that way, when all of this had started up so quickly and it's this intense and rife with feeling. A short dipping of themselves into the shallows of of something that promises to run deeper the longer it goes and the more time and energy they put into it. There's a feeling of abandon in it, but Dorian's already made his mind up to give himself over to it.
It's not enough closeness though, somehow, something that Dorian's quick to correct between them. Without warning he hauls Larus up, and then draws him to arch back against him with a hand wrapped about his throat as he fucks into him. His lips find the bend where shoulder and neck slope together, and he mouths at that spot, needing to taste his skin, scraping teeth over the tenderness there.
It's perfect just like this, where he can bear witness to both the vulnerability, the way Larus responds to his touch and the pounding of his hips, and the strength of the man wrapped in his arms.
He's going to make him come, and soak up every sound and twitching of the aftermath. Breathing out in a rush against Larus' skin, he wraps his other arm around the vampire to curl fingers around his cock to squeeze, and pump his hand in time with his thrusting into his body.]
[ It's almost too much too quickly. The intimacy of it, really, because he can feel Dorian so utterly close, but even then, some part of him still says it isn't close enough.
Larus moves with him effortlessly, hardly caring what position they're in as long as it doesn't end. The warmth, that heartbeat. The physical things that he's come to associate with Dorian, what he craves to take when he experiences a moment of weakness or something that requires him to rebuild his defenses. It's safety in the familiarity, arching into the rock of their hips. One of his hands reaches out to brace against the back of the couch to steady them, and the other slips behind to touch any part of him. His hip, his thigh. His fingers dig in, anchoring him there, and the hand around his cock draws a surprised, quiet sound of him. ]
Dorian. [ The shiver that rolls through him is sharp. ] I need –
[ He doesn't know, isn't sure. Larus could ask him to bite him again or stroke him harder. Maybe fuck him until they both lose their balance, but it still isn't going to be enough. This thing between them won't ever be, no matter how long it goes without a name, and he drops his hand away from the back of the sofa, pressing it against the one settled at his throat. To feel him, to feel the life of the man holding him close.
It doesn't last much longer than that, leaning into Dorian as his own hips stutter. A few minutes at most, falling into everything that's happened between them in the last few weeks, the last few hours, and Larus goes rigid the moment he comes, Dorian's name on the tip of his tongue. His fingers dig into Dorian's hand, clutching at him and holding on like he has nothing left to keep him afloat. ]
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Dorian sits up, giving himself just enough room to think, and pushes a handful of curls out of his face with the butt of a palm. A short exhale of breath, of the coiled-up energy inside, helps him redirect his thoughts.]
That I'm glad you're motivated to not to throw yourself into the void sooner than your time.
[A hand comes out to trail fingers down Larus' chest. It's an affectionate, if amorously-tinged, touch.]
I think there's something here between us. Something more than just the whole contracted partners arrangement. [He knows what it is on his side, but he'll be damned before he comes out with it so soon. It'd be too much all at once.] All I did while I was out is decide that I wanted to seize it while it's still there-- while you're still here.
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It's that thought that catches him before Larus finally decides to digest what he says.
Something between them? Of course there is. As if he would ever give it a name, but the things he's said and what he's done for him, even if Dorian isn't entirely aware of it, says that to be true. He likes him, but there's more to it than that. Even if it's a mess, one Larus will struggle with because he doesn't want to be with Dorian and think of Casimir. Slowly, he unwinds it all and compartmentalizes those things, letting his fingers curl gently around the wrist of the hand at his chest. Just to hold on. ]
It's why I wanted to see you earlier, [ he admits slowly, having desired the closeness they've come to have between each other. ] Because something is there. Is this how you want it to be?
[ He means seizing it, making it theirs, but for once, Larus isn't even entirely sure what he means. ]
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In its own way, for that unwillingness to abide the mystery for long, this thing that's happening between them is something new. Something he might need. He doesn't know yet, but he's made up his mind to pursue and see what comes of it.
That sense makes Larus' question an easy one to answer. After all, he considered this while wandering the city. He wants what's been happening between them, and also doesn't have anything to lose. Not anymore.
And if it's all poised to get taken away at any moment, doesn't that just make it easier to give in?]
Yes. [The fingers against Larus' chest curl into the fabric there, gathering it up.]
Get entangled with whoever you want, and take as many or as few lovers as suits you. [He doesn't care. He's not the jealous type, and is more than likely prone to running wild in the city himself. To that end, he already has.] But at the end of it all, covered in blood and whatever else, we come back to each other.
[It's not much different than what they've already been doing already, but this sets it in stone. That this is the primary relationship either of them will have.]
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It's a ridiculously romantic notion, one that settles heavy in his chest as it becomes more apparent that this is, in fact, something tender. Something to cherish and cultivate. In a place like this, it's probably impossible to stay monogamous, how everything is pushing everyone into situations that are different or uncomfortable, but in some ways, it's also a challenge to be present in what they make of their lives, how they revolve around the ones who are important enough to them to risk everything. Now, more than ever, Dorian is that person, and even if it's temporary, even if it's fleeting and likely to go unremembered, at least he would have had something in his time here.
Larus tilts his face to look at him, wanting the touch and his warmth and whatever else that comes with it. His secrets, his truths, his cruelty and his kindness. Because it will be tested, constantly and without fail. They will suffer more than the strains of a relationship only affected by normalcy, and it's something he's allowing himself to have even as he accepts that it might not be forever. ]
I've always come back to you, Dorian.
[ Soft words, gentle agreement. It's all he thinks that needs to be said right now, pushing up to close the gap he's created and taking a kiss of his own. There's no roughness to it, but he seeks the same sort of depth as Dorian had when he'd thrown himself at him without explanation the moment he'd returned. ]
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It's a depth Dorian's prepared to give, and that he needs to seize for himself, too. Now that they've come to an agreement, all there's left to do is push at this thing building between them and to take it as far as it'll go. To see what shakes out. Dorian parts his lips, leaning in and drawing Larus closer, his fingers slipping into the depths of the vampire's soft, thick hair, and bringing his body to press flush against the other man's.
There's nothing left to hide, and that notion alone is freeing. Thaws a fraction of the ice encasing his heart and soul both, and that had settled there after confirmation that everything left of Toby that could ever return to him again had burned away in a pit of Satanic flame.]
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His mind flits to the first time they'd been in this exact same position. The first time they'd touched, the first time he'd been with someone else that didn't smell like incense or the sun on dark skin, and it's a little freeing to be so focused on Dorian rather than a memory of his life in a place on pause. There's the hint of whatever he'd had to drink, but it's dulled, a rush of breath against the mouth on his as his fingers slowly inch under Dorian's clothes to explore the familiar heat of his body. He'd like him close, even closer than this, and Larus shifts to part his legs, a knee bent to rest against the back of the sofa to accommodate him between his thighs.
Larus breaks the kiss and nudges his forehead against Dorian's. ] I want you.
[ In every way, as much as or as little as Dorian is willing to give. It's yet another confession, confirmation of whatever this is and his feelings. He won't speak of them yet, might not ever really admit to them, but like this, it's just a little easier to expose those thoughts to him. ]
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Turn over. [It's more suggestion then command, coming off the tail end of the conversation they'd just been having. Dorian pulls at the fabric of his own shirt, shrugging his way out of it, discarding it onto the floor without a second thought.] It'll be easier that way on the couch.
[Because they're certainly not going anywhere if he can help it, and he also wants Larus to give himself up to him in this way. So he can watch the way the muscles of his back flex in the midst of pleasure. So he can grip at his hair and make him arch gorgeously for him when the throes of ecstasy hit.]
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He tugs his shirt over his head so that it joins Dorian's on the floor, opening his pants to help in any way that he can before he rolls over. It's the sort of connection he'd wanted the first time, lifting his hips just enough to push the material down to his thighs and bare himself to the other man. In that moment, he desires the warmth of him everywhere—behind him, around him, inside him. Larus feels it down to the marrow, lips pressing together with the anticipation of it as he settles into that all too familiar feeling until he's compelled to say something. ]
Please.
[ Said softly, politely. Not so much begging as it is accepting, though there's a slight edge to it that he knows Dorian would appreciate. He's not in the habit of asking, so he won't, but the amount of trust that he offers him is explicit and visceral, enough that he knows it'll eventually tear him apart all on its own. ]
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He joins Larus on the couch again, shifting comfortably onto his knees, one hand working at the fastening of his pants. A grip at Larus' hip pulls him closer, and against the warm, and stiffing ridge of his cock. Dorian exhales softly at the feeling, his fingertips scraping bluntly over the pretty white flesh bared before him. Over everything that's going to be his again, and soon.
It's a stirring thought, one that makes him keen on not wasting much time in this.]
Ask me again. [He didn't get to enjoy hearing it the first time. The patience he has in this moment is limited, though, so it's not a tease. And as he asks, he's spreading a certain amount of lubricant over his fingers to make quick work of preparing the other man.]
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Dorian –
[ The sound gets stuck in his throat, swallowing around it as Dorian stretches him. It's somewhere in the middle of it that Larus realizes the things he'd said had been a request, fingers curling against the cushion beneath him as he arches into the warmth behind him. ] Please. [ Still soft, not quite begging because he knows they both want this. ]
I can take it, [ he says after another few seconds, edging his knees apart to give them both more room. ] Just do it.
[ Because the lack of prep isn't going to hurt him that much, and really, all Larus wants is Dorian so close he can practically taste him, head filled with the ricochet of his heartbeat and relaxed enough beneath him he won't fight it. He isn't sure that he ever will. ]
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[Far be it from him to not accommodate that request when it's something they both want and it's being asked for so attractively. Dorian takes a moment to drink in the sight stretched before him with his aesthete's eye, the delicate arching of Larus' back and the curl of his hair splaying over faultless skin, and feels the vision pull straight through him in a wave of desire, all of it amplified by the notion that this is what they'll be falling into those times when they shuck off the city and find each other again.
It's another sure sign that he's falling, plunging headfirst into wrapping himself and his immortal life around this man, and right now he couldn't care to spare a single thought more to that realization.
When Dorian takes his cock in hand and pushes inside Larus, it's in a steady and unrelenting slide that between them has become a form of rough-edged affection. Larus said that he could take it, and after the last time they'd had sex, Dorian knows that he doesn't have to hold back anything with him. It's ideal: He can cut loose and both of them will enjoy every moment of it. Dorian draws a sharp breath as he seats himself fully, the now familiar feeling of tight chill drawing him in pulling all of his attention and instantly igniting the need for more. His fingers bite into Larus' hips as he draws the softness of skin hard against him, needing to bury himself as deeply into the other man as his body will allow.
He doesn't seek out whether Larus is ready for more, knows it's a moot question between them, and simply gives himself over to chasing their pleasure without any warning. His first thrust is hard, bracing, and everything he's been craving from the moment he barged into their suite and dragged Larus to him for a kiss. Dorian pauses only to push his own pants further down his legs to prevent the fabric from dragging against Larus' skin and slowing him, before he starts fucking into his lover with precise abandon, his gaze following the flexing and subtle spasming of the taut musculature of the pretty plane of skin stretched out before him.
Beautiful, of course. But then he's always thought so from the moment they met.]
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It still has no name, but they're closer to it than before. That's enough.
Larus doesn't fight it when Dorian thrusts into him. He relaxes, doesn't make a sound as he pushes so deep that it's almost what he wants—to have him crawl so far inside him there's no ending or beginning to either of them. To share the same heartbeat, to share whatever else remains of himself that could be called human. It's an overwhelming impression that he makes an effort to bury as he leans into the hard rhythm that Dorian sets for them both. Good. He wants to feel it, wants to feel him, and it erases every other thought in his head as he rocks back against him each time they come together.
The pleasure is already sharp, but he doesn't reach down to touch himself, squeezing his eyes shut to center on everything about the man behind him. How he'd give him whatever he wanted, dangerous knowledge in the scheme of it all. But for now, this is all that he has to offer, and Larus urges him into a faster pace, needing nothing else and wanting no one else but him. ]
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It's not enough closeness though, somehow, something that Dorian's quick to correct between them. Without warning he hauls Larus up, and then draws him to arch back against him with a hand wrapped about his throat as he fucks into him. His lips find the bend where shoulder and neck slope together, and he mouths at that spot, needing to taste his skin, scraping teeth over the tenderness there.
It's perfect just like this, where he can bear witness to both the vulnerability, the way Larus responds to his touch and the pounding of his hips, and the strength of the man wrapped in his arms.
He's going to make him come, and soak up every sound and twitching of the aftermath. Breathing out in a rush against Larus' skin, he wraps his other arm around the vampire to curl fingers around his cock to squeeze, and pump his hand in time with his thrusting into his body.]
no subject
Larus moves with him effortlessly, hardly caring what position they're in as long as it doesn't end. The warmth, that heartbeat. The physical things that he's come to associate with Dorian, what he craves to take when he experiences a moment of weakness or something that requires him to rebuild his defenses. It's safety in the familiarity, arching into the rock of their hips. One of his hands reaches out to brace against the back of the couch to steady them, and the other slips behind to touch any part of him. His hip, his thigh. His fingers dig in, anchoring him there, and the hand around his cock draws a surprised, quiet sound of him. ]
Dorian. [ The shiver that rolls through him is sharp. ] I need –
[ He doesn't know, isn't sure. Larus could ask him to bite him again or stroke him harder. Maybe fuck him until they both lose their balance, but it still isn't going to be enough. This thing between them won't ever be, no matter how long it goes without a name, and he drops his hand away from the back of the sofa, pressing it against the one settled at his throat. To feel him, to feel the life of the man holding him close.
It doesn't last much longer than that, leaning into Dorian as his own hips stutter. A few minutes at most, falling into everything that's happened between them in the last few weeks, the last few hours, and Larus goes rigid the moment he comes, Dorian's name on the tip of his tongue. His fingers dig into Dorian's hand, clutching at him and holding on like he has nothing left to keep him afloat. ]