[ 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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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. ]
no subject
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. ]