James Howlett whether or not that was his last name Dorian would file the pieces of information away as they came to light. James who grew up in a house similar to this, who had a grandfather with a mean face, who may have been wealthy at one point in time. And the more time he spends with the mage the more memories that come bubbling to the surface. Perhaps talking would help untangle the memories, or simply experiencing things as they came, Dorian wasn't about to push for anything that would stress his memories. If they naturally did things or poke at things that inspired those memories then that was entirely different.
For the time being, he watched his companion standing in front of the fire in deep contemplation the fire throwing him into sharp relief. Dorian just enjoyed the moment, watching how the flickering light played on James's face. When James joined him on the sofa, Dorian poured him a glass of red wine, passing it to him turning his body so that he was facing the other man while they spoke.
"Like swallowing a peach pit knowing it would end badly," Dorian said grinning, "I guess one would describe it as a gilded cage it's a pretty and privileged life on the outside. I could have pretended, I suppose, wear fancy clothes, convince everyone I'm something I'm not. Then I could take a position in court, whore myself out, and desperately hope no one realizes what a fraud I am. I suppose that would be the aptest description."
Dorian said this as he took a sip of wine.
"There's power and money, luxuries and favor involved and all of that...but you're also performing, and the performance never ends. You either put on a show or you're breakfast, it's all the gold shitting that draws people to cling on to the power they have otherwise there's not as much glamor as one might expect."
Another sip of wine.
"I find myself infinitely more satisfied away from all of that, toss it on the fire and be done with it. I can do as I like, give my affections to who I wish, and expand my own horizons."
He snorts at Dorian’s remark and slouches a little deeper in his seat. Less inclined to hold himself to the kind of posture Dorian has when his host isn’t above making colourfully lewd remarks.
His arms stretch along the back of the sofa as he tips up his glass. The same warm, calming feeling of standing in front of the fire comes over him while listening to Dorian and letting the wine settle in his stomach.
For all the ways Dorian’s distanced himself from the sort of life someone else laid out for him there’s no doubt in Logan’s mind that the man’s education and upbringing play some role in his eloquent and charismatic nature.
“You don’t have any taste for power?” he asks smiling and rolling a small fold of Dorian’s silk tunic between his fingers before his eyes rove about the room again, full of its ornate decor. “I won’t ask about your taste for luxury. I think I know the answer to that.”
Dorian's posture comes from years of training and discipline from strict nannies and other caretakers and teachers. Fortunately, the words that come out of Dorian's mouth tend to undermine the appropriate way he carries himself, but it is a dead giveaway that he does come from wealth.
And Logan isn't also wrong in his assessment, his upbringing, and education have afforded him a great deal of charm and the ability to speak to people in a flattering way. Though one could argue that this is also personality as well given how suggestive his mannerisms could be. His teachers did not gift him with the ability to be a practiced flirt with a crackerjack wit. That was purely inherent.
"Magic is power, I was born with it, it's a part of me as much as my hand is attached to my wrist and I appreciate it...revel in it...and respect it. Power is also a temptation...and to watch people succumb to it, need more of it...always more...it's a bit terrifying," Dorian confessed, yes he was afraid of temptation, the lure of power, "that isn't to say I wouldn't enjoy having enough influence to shift the balance of power...but it is a balancing act. I am afraid of what power could do to me."
Dorian glanced around the room before fixing his eyes on James's profile, keenly aware of the fingers fondling the silk of his tunic.
"Do you now?" Dorian was, of course, quite easy to read when it came to things like luxury, he enjoyed it. He enjoyed his wines, books, clothes, and magical trinkets. Could he live without it, certainly, did it give him the satisfaction he needed in life, not always...but like any guilty pleasure Dorian enjoyed it. Tipping his head a bit while James was distracted he brushed his lips against the heel of his companion's hand, "I suppose you're right...but my appreciation runs deeper than the material. There are other things one can cherish."
There’s something pleasant about watching that confluence of confidence and social grace that makes Dorian who he is. Who doesn’t admire someone who knows perfectly well who they are and spares no apology for it? Of course, his strong jaw and dark eyes don’t hurt either.
“That’s why you avoid blood magic?” He asks, sipping the last of the wine in his glass. “It sounds like the price of that power isn’t worth it to you.” Temptation and power all feel like familiar struggles. Even without knowing who or what was said, he knows he’s had countless conversations about giving in to some sort of urge before. It makes him think that whatever control Dorian has found for himself might be something Logan's not yet mastered. But it is something Dorian probably deserves to know about.
“I think I do,” he chuckles. Grazing his knuckles along Dorian’s cheek. “It looks good on you though. You wear it well. All this.” The playful way the other man prickles to be teased delights Logan like no other. Makes him want to find other ways of getting a rise out of his companion. He turns himself towards Dorian, looking a bit more bashful than outright amused with himself, but nevertheless happy to egg the man on. “What else does Dorian Pavus appreciate?”
"It was my father who taught me that blood magic was the last resort of a weak mind. The irony," Dorian smiled bitterly taking a deep drought from his glass, "no, the price of power isn't always worth the cost, and the cost is usually suffering. I don't like to hurt people if I can avoid it, if not...well then I'll make sure it really hurts." Like the sort of cultists running around giving his homeland a bad name. Reminding himself of the dangers of chasing power after power required a great deal of discipline and being a mage helps, it makes it easier to understand the dangers of power when you could burn someone or if you tripped up a demon by accident. Being a mage was a mastery of the mind, but mages who turned to blood magic for power were a problem in his homeland.
But enough of that for the moment, right now he was too busy focusing on the heat suffusing his body as James's knuckles caressed his cheek, soaking up the compliments like the wine soaking into his brain. Really, it was intoxicating for Dorian, being complimented of course tickled his vanity, but at the same time compliments geared towards his virtues as well stirred him up. He didn't know what to do when people paid attention to things that simply weren't important in his position. The tightness in his chest when James gives him another bashful look and the question that follows is enough for Dorian to forget for the moment that he was supposed to be protecting his companion...from...whatever...
...there was the temptation of power and the temptation of that bashful expression and those blue eyes. One he had far more practice in pushing down than the other and so to answer James's question the mage leaned over, bracing one hand on the back of the couch, the other on the arm of the sofa nearest his companion. Leaning in he covered the other man's mouth with his own, kissing him in a manner Dorian considered chaste, but full wanting to experience him for a few precious seconds before drawing back and noting how good he tasted with a hint of wine clinging to his lips, "...does this answer your question?"
Dorian wouldn’t be the only one of them to consider it chaste. It’s a strange thing the way roughness rolls right off him but treating Logan with any delicacy leaves him squirming inside. Uncomfortable but pleasant.
He draws his bottom lip between his teeth when Dorian puts enough space for breath between them again. Tasting the faintest trace of the man on his lips when that kiss only left him with so much to revel in. “It’s a good start,” he chuckles. “Raises a few questions too. But. I can think of better ways to ask.”
The arm outstretched along the back of the couch doesn’t hold onto the fabric of his tunic anymore. Instead he drapes it around Dorian’s shoulders. First, raking his finger through the man’s hair and soon holding him steady when Logan leans off the back of the couch to kiss him again. Instead though, he stops just short of the other man’s mouth to whisper— a volume that to Logan’s voice borders on a growl.
“I know you’ve got a penchant for finery. But I’m not like these nice things, Dorian. I’m not fragile. I won’t break,” he says. The curl at the corner of his mouth turns his smile a little more wild and willful than perhaps he might have been taken for these last few days— wandering around lost like some naive soul.
“There’s lots of things I don’t have a memory for, that I know aren’t new to me. Just by feel. Or taste…” And when he does take that kiss, it’s firmer this time. Toothier. Hungrier.
After seeing what James could survive, Dorian had no delusions about the man's hardiness. The mage was, arguably, more concerned with the man's feelings and how he would react to being kissed, though based on his smile he didn't seem to disapprove of that kiss. If anything it sent tremors down Dorian's spine and a tingling sensation to wash over his skin, it was pleasant and maybe a bit more than that.
Before he could conjure up a witty retort James had gone from being a hairsbreadth away from him to kissing him fully. Dorian could think of nothing else, he untucked his legs, stretching them out along the couch while his arms draped around James pulling on the man as their mouths worked one another hungrily. This kiss was different from the first, open-mouthed, the dueling of tongues as Dorian found himself eager to taste his companion's depths, the desperation in the way he nipped at Jame's bottom lip tugging slightly. It was a whole jaw workout and he held tightly to the other man's body concerned that his own arms would fail him if he let go.
Even when there's little he remembers about himself, conflating his physical resilience with his feelings is a habit Logan can't avoid. When one always seems to insist upon the other he's the first to believe they ought to be linked.
And he's clearly more comfortable when someone believes both are true about him.
He grins against Dorian's lips when the man drags him in. Peeling himself off his own seat to get closer still, drinking in the taste of wine off Dorian's tongue until all he can taste is the man himself.
"C'mere," he mutters breathlessly. Nodding to his lap as he drags Dorian to him by a fistful of his shirt. He rucks that garment up when his hands rove up the other man's back. Relishing the broad expanse of warm skin that Logan imagines is just as bronze as the rest of the man.
"Why do I feel like the rest of you is as well groomed as all this?" he smirks and drags his thumb over the particular little stroke of hair under Dorian's lip. It's not much of a guess really. He's been able to smell whatever soaps or oils the man favours since the first time they've met. Now that faint spice mingles with the tastes of him and together makes for a stronger buzz than the wine.
When James draws back, Dorian groans at the loss, wanting Nothing more than to dive back into kissing him, to roll his companion onto his back, and feel every warm inch of him. James had powerful muscle tone, from what he's seen and what he can feel and the urge to coast his fingers over broad rippling planes appealed to him almost as much as sinking his teeth into his shoulder, bicep, or any other lean curve of muscle he could find.
Instead of following his lust-addled desires, he pulled himself up onto his knees and straddled his companion, long legs on either side of his lap. Once he'd followed the entreaty the mage lowered himself into the inviting lap, helped by James tugging on his shirt, he shivered in delight as fingers snuck their way up the back of the silky fabric, skin against skin.
"You've got me..." Dorian murmured in his soft velvety voice a whisper against the skin of Jame's throat. He gave his companion's chin a nudge with the tip of his nose so that he could draw a line from the dip of his collar to the soft pallet of flesh just under his chin. He drew back once more at the observation James made about his grooming, grinning as the man thumbed the patch of hair under his lip.
"Aside from being meticulous, why don't I show you," the mage thumbed at the clasp at his neck and a few more that ran diagonally across his chest allowing the tunic to unfold, exposing half of his chest. Apart from the smooth tantalizing skin on display, there was a necklace with an amulet nestled within the valley of his chest, an artifact he kept hidden under his clothing, it made a soft metallic noise as the mage peeled the shirt off over his head revealing a smooth, well-groomed body underneath, a sheen from the oils and lotions he used to take care of himself clung to his skin giving his body a warm glow in the firelight.
He does nothing to try and hold back the low groan of appreciation that rumbles in his chest when Dorian’s weight in his lap holds him down. His fingers curl against the other man’s skin and his head drops back when Dorian urges his chin up. It sense shiver down his spin to bare his neck like that. Like so many other things he’s been careful not to mention, it brushes up against something animal inside him.
“Uh huh,” he nods dumbly at the offer. His blue eyes looking darker already. Blown wide in the dimly lit room to take in everything Dorian promises to show him.
Noting where all those buckles were seems like a thing worth remembering, but the more they fall open the less certain he is about committing any such practical details to memory.
He drags his fingers down Dorian’s throat. Lightly at first. His heavy hands capable of surprising delicacy over the tender chords of the other man’s throat. But that touch get’s rougher quickly. Eager to feel out a body he’s known to be sturdy since the first time Dorian slung an arm around him.
“I don’t remember any magicians lookin’ like this where I come from,” he mumbles, raking his fingers across Dorian’s chest until that amulet lays against his knuckles.
Dorian cards a hand through James's hair, enjoying that unfocused, lust-driven expression as eyes and hands moved over his body. He could feel heat blossoming over skin wherever those fingers touched him, a soft hiss of pleasure erupting from him as fingers rake down his chest. The hand in Jame's hair curls into a fist, tugging slightly on his companion's hair. It really shouldn't feel so intense, but what with the end of the world and other matters vying for his attention, it had been a while. He could feel his hips jerking forward reflexively in Jame's lap as a reponse and part of the mage wouldn't mind grinding himself off to completion against James, his leathers still on and the other man clothed as he was. Another part of him wanted to strip the other man and look at his glorious body first.
"Mm..." the statement was enough to bring the mage out of his cloud of filthy thoughts and Dorian glanced down at his own body, a body he was rightly proud of, "...ah...well most mages where I come from are more cerebral fighters...not melee fighters...we operate at a distance so there's really no point in physical upkeep. I'm not a hand-to-hand fighter myself, I'd likely lose in a situation that required it..."
As evidenced by Dorian nearly pitching over if the Inquisitor punches him, another scenario in an alternate timeline, but still.
"I...do understand the necessity though so I've trained in a bit of martial arts...when my magic is low I can use my staff as a bo...and bash things pretty effectively," Dorian grinned dropping another brief kiss to his companion's lips. It explained why his body was firm and toned with muscle, he wasn't a lazy mage in that regard.
When asked about the pendant hanging around his neck Dorian, "the only power that thing has is the power to make peons tremble at your impressive lineage...it's been a pain in my arse, really..."
Dorian said all of this distractedly as he dropped kisses on his companion's face.
"...didn't leave home with much in the way of coin..." he peppered more kisses along the side of James's neck, "...sold it to a charlatan so that I could survive long enough to achieve my goals...a foolish and forbidden thing to do of course..."
He nosed at the collar of the other man's shirt, "...but I was desperate...nnnn...the bastard charged me a fortune for its return..."
He sways with the gentle brush of Dorian’s fingers in his hair and when the touch turns rough it inspires a groan. The lure of something tender turning into something assertive never ceases to strike him with a deep pang of wanting. He goes still a moment. His hold on Dorian opening slightly, just long enough to see if the man intends to go on demonstrating what he wants through the force of his hand.
Instead, Logan collects himself with a breath. Lets his head rest along the back of the couch, revelling in the eloquence of Dorian’s voice, the rolling of his breath along his skin and the heat of his mouth that follows.
“Purely… aesthetic, hn?” He murmurs. Not unaware of the fact that his teasing becomes amusingly pitiable when he can barely come to the right words through all his distraction. His hands push that open shirt over Dorian’s shoulders. Unabashed about wringing the other man’s muscles as they pass beneath his hands.
That glib remark about his pendant makes Logan chuckle, but every time Dorian’s weight shifts between his words and his kisses, he moves slightly beneath him. It’s an involuntary thing, devoid of his focus, brought on by the unyielding interest of his hips to position him directly under the brunt of the other man’s weight for something firm to rut against.
“Foolish and forbidden sounds like a habit of yours,” he smiles fondly. The heels of his hands pushing Dorian back from him. Just upright enough that he can bury his face against that bronze chest and kiss the skin where that amulet lies. His pronounced canine teeth leave slight tracks with every tentative bite. Something for his tongue to salve after every bite.
Dorian is quick to log away the fact that James seems to enjoy forceful handling, noting the way he groaned when he tightened his fist in his companion's hair. It was intriguing and Dorian knew that once they really got into it he'd want to do the things that gave the other man the most pleasure and excitement. For now, he'll enjoy how James's ability to form a cohesive teasing sentence is slowly becoming strenuous much to his own amusement, it means he's doing his job.
Of course, he can make no claims to doing much better, not when his shirt slides off of his shoulders, baring him to the other man's touch. Small, pleased noises bubble up from his throat and vibrate against James's skin as warm hands knead at the muscles in his back. He sucks at the pulse point of his companion's neck knowing any mark he might desperately try to leave wouldn't stick, but it did give him a way to ground his desires.
And his desires were becoming more wildly difficult to contain as James shifted underneath him giving him leverage to grind down and rub himself more insistently for the ends his body demanded. He certainly had more control, but he also had all night so whether he got off now or later, they had time to take it as slower. His senses were so enraptured by James he couldn't help but want to go the natural course, this time anyway.
"A habit I clearly embody," Dorian said through a soft chuckle pulling back just enough to nip James's jaw playfully before his companion coaxed him back eliciting an intrigued eyebrow raise from him. Ah...the mage allowed his head to drop back as lips began their conquest of his chest. Dorian was torn between soft sighs and gritty moans as the other man's mouth alternated between devouring and generous. He found purchase in James's hair, fingers raking through hair and over his scalp before anchoring himself by fisting his hair once again.
The roughness he responds to comes out in his own touch too. Adoring but rough. He’s a sturdy man with heavy hands and an unpretentious manner. There’s nothing delicate about him and that’s just as true about the way he handles Dorian— a man who seems equally built for it himself.
“It looks good on you,” he groans when the way Dorian moves on top of him becomes something much more intentional. His own hips roll forward, eager for the pressure but quickly setting a rhythm he knows better than to set so early.
He lays his forehead against Dorian’s chest when that drunken feeling makes his head start to swim. His hands settle on Dorian’s hips. Thumb grazing the smooth flanks of his stomach while he catches his breath and gets a look at his belt. Both things designed to slow him down, collect his sense of control and not give into that desire to rush towards completion.
“You should know… there’s something animal about me,” he mutters, dragging his fingers down the other man’s belly and unhitching the clasp of his belt. So unhurried in his effort that Dorian could still tell him no. If he wanted to.
“Everything has a scent. I can hear things people can’t. And sometimes… there this impulse.” When a breath meant to steady him he looks up at the man whose gaze he can still feel on him, even through the strong, secure feeling of those hands in his hair. “I though you should know, is all.”
Dorian doesn't mind the rough handling at all knowing it's tempered with care and not simply aggressive. Rough hands and teeth soothed by caresses and a tongue just heighten the experience for him and he enjoys the dual sensations. If he was opposed he wouldn't be ready to rut regardless of their state of dress.
"I'm glad you approve," Dorian managed to find it in him to chuckle as he dipped down to kiss James's forehead, an endearing kiss that was brief but it conveyed his gratitude. Dorian was often grateful toward anyone who could put up with the full force of his personality.
Dorian's body was shuddering involuntarily as fingers ghosted their way over his stomach intensifying the flutterings he felt in his pelvis region. It only caused his excitement to grow, his anticipation to heighten, his curiosity to escalate. His mind was reeling with images of James in a variety of positions, he was curious about his tastes, what he liked and maybe instinct would direct him in things that pleased him most.
It took Dorian a moment to realize James was making words at him when his companion began working at his belt, it took him another moment to process what words even meant anymore. He had to breathe in order to reestablish control over his libido, over the ache in him that demanded he toppled James onto the couch and sprawl across him while they continued feeling each other up.
"Mmm...well then I can only hope that I please your senses..." Dorian allowed the hands in James's hair to stray to his face, his thumb rubbing the bridge of the man's nose affectionately, "...as for your impulses, if they involve, scratching, biting, fucking or any number of unimaginably naughty things that tickle your fancy...I'm here to help you explore all of it."
Dorian tipped James's face to him and kissed his lips again thoroughly, promising the man everything including an open mind. From his lips he kissed his way to Jame's ear, hands restlessly moving to tug at the man's shirt, wanting to hike it over his head, but at the same time wanting to kiss him, so he settled for pushing the fabric as far up as he could. It was quite something to be able to knead all of that muscle under his palms, to run his fingers over chest hair, to idly roll and tug at a nipple between his fingers.
"If there's anything you like..." Dorian continued, murmuring against the shell of James's ear, alternating between speaking, and worrying at his lobe with his teeth and tongue, "...just keep in mind...I have magic fingers..."
There’s a gentleness about Dorian that makes Logan feel clumsy by comparison. Wanted in a way he’s not exactly used, but all the more intent on making sure the man feels as cherished as he manages to make Logan.
“You do. Smell so good. You dunno what it does to me… ” he mumbles drawing in a deep breath of the man who smells to him both impeccably well groomed and increasingly aroused. It’s enough to make his head swim as he draws down the other man’s open pants, as far as he can get them with Dorian atop him and lets his palms settle on the curve of Dorian’s backside. Pulling Dorian closer against the increasingly stiff dick still bound up by his pants.
“All of those things…” he confesses breathlessly against the man’s lips, relishing as much in a sense of relief as anticipation to know Dorian expects no less of him.
“I like it when yer rough with me. And then you go do something sweet like that,” he chuckles. It’s a heady mixture to feel both the strength and softness of Dorian’s hand one moment to the next. His chin turned up to his companion, Logan closes his eyes when Dorian’s fingers trace the angles of his face. “And I like you sat up there like that. Where I can watch you,” he huffs when a few clear thoughts manage to make it past his lips.
“Magic…” His smile starts to look drunken the more Dorian toys with him— whether stroking his chest or nibbling his ear. The groan that it pulls out of him starts to sound more like the purr of some large predatory cat than anything else. With a few lazy pulls on the buttons of his shirt he shrugs the plaid thing off his shoulders and does stop to see where it lands when he tosses it.
“What do you like to do with your magic fingers? Show me?”
Dorian can appreciate his own scruples when it comes to personal care, even more so now knowing how good he smelled to someone with such impeccable senses. Sweat, sex, and the soaps and oils massaged into his skin smelled good to Dorian as well, but he couldn't pick up on it quite so keenly. Right now it was simply the musk of arousal between them that occasionally registered and that was when he was present enough to do so. The heat between them made his head a bit fuzzy, but nothing like the naked lust and the desire he could see swimming in James's eyes.
"I confess...I do like watching what it does to you..." Dorian said, his voice low, and warm, that amber honey and silk tone caressing his companion's skin as he spoke. His fingers commit the other man's strong features to memory, stroking over the lids of his closed eyes, the surprising softness of lips, his chin. Dorian drank him in with the same care he showed for fine wine and literature, eyes glowing with warmth as he took in the face framed by his fingers, measure by measure.
His breathing hitched as clever fingers found their way into his pants freeing his cock and baring his ass. His body surged forward and he could feel a groan rip itself from his chest as his arousal rubbed up against James's, still clothed, member flexing his hips forward so he could rut up against the solid mound hidden under clothing. Dorian was patient, but he was only too eager to see his companion's perfect compact body completely naked.
"We have...plenty of time to explore our options..." Dorian promised with a kiss that started out soft and then turned to a nip and a gentle tug on James's bottom lip before pulling back once more. His fingers went to the man's neck next, circling his throat, massaging warm skin under his palms, thumbs pressing delicately against his Adam's apple.
"Mmmm...I knew you had a naughty side, I'll have to see how deep it goes," leaning in he nuzzled the side of James's face, chuckling warmly, giving himself a moment to indulge in just how intimate this was. What a vulnerable feeling he often tried so hard to smother beneath layers of glibness. This time he couldn't help himself, "...love a man who enjoys a good show..." and Dorian enjoys being watched so there are no complaints here if James wants him where he can see him at all times.
Dorian sat back just enough when James tugged the buttons of his shirt open and tossed the fabric away, the mage was less concerned with where it went than the fact that he'd been graced with free access to that chest. Like his companion, he wanted to bury himself against the brad planes, kissing his way along with muscles and over the dusting of hair that only made him more attractive. It was a plan he momentarily put on pause when James requested he be shown personally what he liked to do with his magic fingers.
"Anything..." Dorian murmured, sinking his teeth into the muscle between neck and shoulder, enough to be sharp, but not enough to cause pain. He pulled back after a moment before levering himself to his feet, steadying himself on the couch in front of James, no doubt giving his companion an eyeful as he discarded his pants completely, the would only get in the way. Then he dove back into James, rolling the man playfully until he was flat on his back and Dorian was on all fours, caging him under his body, dark brown hair framing his face in damp waves. he couldn't be more grateful that this sofa had a broadness and softness to it that made sex enjoyable...though if James had enough desire in him Dorian planned on having the man on every available surface of his home. A thought for another time, though there was something delectable in the idea of being bent of bending James over various pieces of furniture.
Raising one hand he magicked ice to the tips of his fingers, he didn't want to be freezing cold, he wanted James to feel the bite for just a moment before it melted into his skin. Wiggling his fingers playfully he began tracing patterns over flesh, from the line of his companion's neck to the solid curve of his shoulder, down his arm, and over each finger. His lips set to work immediately following the frozen path that quickly melted into rivulets of water, sucking the liquid up until he arrived at James's fingers and he licked each in turn, not bothering to hide what it suggested when he pulled his companion's middle finger fully between his lips.
“Just… trying not to be greedy,” he chuckles sheepishly to be the target of both Dorian’s amusement and delight. “You should know though, it won’t just. Go away easily,” he confesses like some sorry kind of warning about himself. “You’ve seen what my body does. How I just… bounce back.”
His tongue reaches tentatively for that thumb that passes briefly across his lips. He doesn’t catch that fleeting touch that maps his face, but still he can taste the man on his lips. A faint flavour that Dorian corrects soon, out of either want or pity for him. Not that Logan minds either. Not when what he gets is the fullness of Dorian’s lips against his own and raking of his teeth first against his lip and soon against his neck in way that always leaves his skin prickled with goosebumps.
He groans when Dorian ruts against him and again when the man’s teeth threaten to puncture his skin. His hand leaves its hold on his hip to run up the length of Dorian’s cock. Warm and heavy against his palm. Providing just enough friction to tantalize and frustrate, but not nearly enough to really drive him along.
If there’s anything to appreciate in not knowing who he is, it’s the century worth of baggage he’s left behind. Like Dorian, he has a tendency to smother anything remotely vulnerable under pragmatism, or cynicism, or some degree of both. Learned habits of course, all of which are are unlearned, however temporarily. He’s tempted to reach for the man when he stand before him bare, but he’s pliant to Dorian’s own plans when the man topples him again to trace chill seams across his bare, flushed body.
“Fuck,” His breath catches in his throat, his chest inflating against the briefly burning cold. It reminds him far gone places, and quiet wintery mountains where the air is so brittle and dry it burns your lungs. Together it’s a heady mixture of familiar and invigorating. All the more so to watch Dorian drink the melted frost from his skin and draw his finger between his lips.
“Dorian… jesus...” he growls curling his finger against the man’s tongue. “Suck me. Just like that.”
When James confessed that his arousal wasn't something that ebbed easily, Dorian could feel his own respond in kind, tightening to full hardness and without much teasing or prompting at all. Something about that touched a primal nerve in the mage as well and now he couldn't help his curiosity, it was probably evident by the lust and the desire to do something naughty written on his face that betrayed his wonderment. How many times could he ride the man to completion, how many times could he open those legs and provide him with the same stimulating satisfaction. Dorian was aware that his own body had limitations and he would inevitably become sleepy or tired, but he'd hardly mind having sleepy sex. He wanted his body to feel the ache and then he wanted to sleep in with this man fixed at his side.
Waking up with such a perfect body so warm against his own would be a rare treat, and he couldn't help himself, he was quite fond of James. Dangerously fond of him, the sort of fondness that went beyond physical pleasure that ventured into simply wanting to give territory, but Dorian was constantly wary of the pain. He shoved that to the back of his mind as an issue to deal with later or maybe not ever because like his companion it's easier to bury the emotions than address them and he had more enticing distractions. How James responded to his lips, to his body, to his touch...it was an experience. At the entreaty, Dorian nibbled at the pads of James's fingers playfully, drawing his tongue over the other man's palm once before giving in to the desperate request.
"Insolent..." the mage rocked back on his haunches, grinning broadly, his eyes following James body all the way up to his eyes. Such fetching blue eyes that held him captive and he wanted to convey to them all of the hideously inappropriate things he wanted to enjoy with James, convey it with a single look. He didn't take his eyes off of the man while his fingers worked his pants open, he held his gaze as he worked the last barrier between James and himself off and out of the way, fondling the man's ass, feeling him up and down as he went until he'd finally freed James of every constraining piece. Gloriously naked at last Forian affectionally rubbed the turn of James's ankle appreciatively before leaning back over him, "...I like it..."
His breath was heady against James's cock, and he turned his eyes, now dark and hooded with lust upward as his lips ghosted along the warm heat of his companions straining arousal, "...if it fair to say I want you to be greedy...that even when I'm exhausted I still want to feel your body...it would hardly be an imposition to have sex with you until I pass out...wring yourself out until you're dry..."
He took a sharp nip at James's hip before sliding his lips over the swollen tip of his companion's arousal and inching the man slowly into his throat. His taste, his scent, he was maddening and glorious all at once. Using one hand to brace himself he allowed his other hand to coast all the way up the length of the man's body to caress his face whishing he would be everywhere at once.
His bashful smile belies a smugness at that assessment. It’s not wrong and hearing it now makes him think he’s only tapped the surface of just how insubordinate Logan can be. When he’s still got the willpower and the patience that is.
The look on Logan’s face is that of a starved man watching someone enjoy their meal. Mouth slightly agape and his chest rising and falling in anticipation of that moment the warmth of his breath turns into the warmth of his tongue.
“Ahh…” He groans. His eyes, first so fixated on the sight of his cock disappearing between Dorian’s lips, quickly become frustratingly bleary. No amount of fluttering of his eyelids can seem to focus his dark eyes, so wildly dilated by the sights and sensations of Dorian’s mouth around him, wet and welcoming. His hands cradle the man’s head at first. Careful not to apply any additional force. Just wanting to curl his fingers in the man’s dark hair for something to anchor himself. A thing Dorian’s blind reach soon helps provide.
His stomach tightens visibly every time the man draws back. His lips drawing up the tip and the rest of him wet and cooling in the air. “Please…” he mutters, but the unfocused look on his face makes it clear he has little idea what he’s pleading for.
Planting an elbow into the sofa he props himself up enough to keep watching but breathlessly his head falls back time and time again when the draw of Dorian’s tongue up the underside of his dick leaves him dizzy. He swallows roughly when the hand splayed across his chest moves up his neck. Feeling his Adam’s apple shift beneath his companions fingers. He gnashes lazily at Dorian’s hand. Parting his lips for those first two fingers, his balls ache when they press across his tongue.
For his part Dorian was enjoying himself, his rhythm slow at first, enjoying every inch of James as he swallowed him and then drew off of him only to tease the tip of his cock with his tongue. He enjoyed the little desperate noises and groans when his tongue prodded playfully at the slit before rolling against the underside of his shaft, enjoying him from stem to root before drawing his companion back into his warmth. As invested as he was in his oral appreciation he couldn't take his eyes off of James, watching the man through hooded lashes, the struggle just as tantalizing as the heat sliding down his throat in a controlled and purposeful manner.
It was difficult enjoying the buffet of visual delights while ignoring his own cock, but one hand was trying to keep his body steady, and the other hand was busy teasing their way into James's pleading mouth. Dorian could feel a moan vibrate through his body and around the heat filling his mouth as his fingers were invited past those lips. He couldn't resist fucking the man's mouth with his fingers, exploring him, enjoying the sensation of his tongue and the wet heat, wishing it was his own cock instead, brushing up against those canines. He summoned a bit of ice to his fingertips, something for James to suck on, to encourage that salivating, to slick up his own fingers.
With a wet pop, he drew himself off of James's cock, kissing the flushed head reverently before nudging his companion's balls with his nose. Tight, perfect globes straining for release. He flicked at each in turn with his tongue for a few idle moments before levering himself up so he could look into James's face, fingers still thrusting into his mouth, "I can't recall ever seeing anyone quite so lovely."
Dorian offered James a lopsided grin.
"These fingers..." Dorian said emphasizing the ones that were currently stuffed inside of James's mouth, "...tell me, would you prefer they be used to prepare your body, or should I use them to open myself?"
He drew his fingers back just enough to give James the room to speak asking him if he would prefer to be the one taking or receiving this time around.
"I don't mind either...I want to see you in as many lewd positions as I can manage before morning...so there's time for exploration..." leaning over he kissed James's forehead reassuringly so that he was aware that his companion's choice wouldn't change anything.
The struggle between Logan’s desire to drop back and start rolling his hips and his determination to watch Dorian’s mouth work him over becomes a palpable thing with every involuntary tick of his hips and heavy humid sigh.
“Mmh,” he mumbles around the fingers in his mouth. Stealing an audible breath when the little chill that cools his tongue takes him by surprise. He narrows his eyes suspiciously at the mage. His lips too much occupied to offer him much in the way of a mischievous smile. The faint frost changes the texture of Dorian’s skin just long enough to melt against his tongue until he can’t keep it from dribbling past his lips unless he’s drinking it down and.
The word flatterer comes to mind, but can’t be spoken with his mouth full. Instead he strains his hips towards the man who worked him up like this only to make him wait when he can’t bring himself to sit and wallow in such earnest affection without squirming.
The question itself and the patient way he’s offered some choice while Dorian feeds him his fingers leaves a fog at the forefront of his brain. He groans and his eyes flutter when just picturing his options makes that fevered heat filling his cock reach a new pitch. Leaving him desperately leaking precum.
He slurps back the last drip from Dorian’s finger tips but Logan’s nodding dumbly before he can articulate anything. “You. I want you,” he growls, drawing Dorian closer with a heavy hand on the back of his neck until he can gnash kisses at the man’s full lips and and the tender slope beneath his jaw. The other reaches for the buck of his thigh, urging him back up at the hips. “I wanna be inside you. Anyway you want it. Let me make you moan, Dorian.”
"Hnn..." Dorian leans into the desperate kiss letting James claim his mouth, the man has been patient enough in the face of all of his promises and Dorian has nothing but appreciation for such patience. It's all passion and heat, and a kiss that leaves his jaw aching and his tongue a little sore from dealing with his companion's own. And then he pulls back a little just to hear his request, to feel the hands on him coaxing him back up for a ride and the mage is just as eager to taste that cock again, but with his ass.
"I...do like the idea of you making me moan..." Dorian said smiling and canting his head to the side a bit so James can continue his kisses. For his part the mage lowered himself down on top of the warm body beneath his own, he could feel the vibrations of pleasure and it tore another soft groan from him. His hips arched up just enough to give his still slick fingers the space he needed to find and tease apart his asscheeks so he could work them into the tight ring of flesh. He shuddered a bit and bowed his head against James's substantial chest, controlling his breathing while his fingers stretched out that part of him. It wouldn't take much, the mage only required just enough preparation to relax his body and soften himself up for James.
While he worked his fingers inside, twisting and scissoring while thrusting vigorously enough to have his hips pitching forward so that he was rubbing against the other man, his mouth occupied itself with slightly more aggressive pursuits. Teeth sank into meaty muscle, not enough to cause any harm, but enough to be almost possessive. A few solid bites, was followed by several gentler nips, and then he found a nipple and he willed himself to be gentler here. Only lightly tugging with his teeth before flattening his tongue against the hard nub and then sucking hungrily. It was his way of communicating his own needs and appetites.
When he'd strained his own tolerance to the point of being brittle Dorian withdrew his fingers and repositioned himself so that he was more upright, a hand pressing firmly onto the other man's chest while his hips angled toward his cock. He freed up the other hand so that he could guide the tip of James's cock to his hole, spreading his legs as wide as he could manage and still maintain his balance while doing so. The man was blessed and Dorian could feel the sting as his muscles resisted and he inhaled sharply. It wasn't bad it was an experience and one he'd been deprived of far longer than he would have liked.
"Anyone...ever tell you...that you have quite...the endowment..." Dorian managed through gritted teeth, his head bowed and his forehead gleaming with a light sheen of sweat.
His urgency makes Logan’s touch unrepentantly sloppy. Greedily touching and kissing anything he can reach whenever Dorian offers himself either intentionally or just by the happenstance of how he maneuvers himself over Logan’s thighs.
Mouthing hungrily at Dorian’s neck only lasts so long as he can go without watching the other man touch himself. The picture that chiseled body makes to penetrate himself is all angles and olive skin made gold by the flicker of the fire. He drags his tongue along the chord of his neck that disappears into his clavicle expecting him to taste of something as warm and spiced as the lighting makes him appear.
When Dorian hangs his head through that moment of resistance Logan cradles the nape of his neck. His blunt fingers lovingly raking through the fuzz of his short hair and soon down the man’s back to settle on an encouraging rhythm right at the small of his back. He takes a deep breath with his nose buried in Dorian’s hair, drinking in the scent of his growing arousal before he draws the man’s ear between his lips. “You look like sin,” he snarls. His lips curled by the switch of teeth and tongue across his chest.
The hand planted on his chest used to push Dorian upright braces the man’s weight against him in a way that makes Logan groan. He pushes against it just to feel himself further manhandled. Watching his partner stretching out above him, it’s all Logan can do not to interrupt when Dorian takes his cock in hand, but every time he feels that tight hole give way to him his resolve grows thinner.
When Dorian’s expression looks pinched Logan reaches for him. His heavy hands unexpectedly tender as he strokes the soft, thin skin that runs up the inside of Dorian’s taut thighs. Like he could soothe the discomfort away or at least provide enough pleasure to be distracting. He thumbs the chord between Dorian’s groin and his thigh until he’s palming the man’s balls and running a loose fist up the length of his cock.
“I… I’d like to think so,” he huffs, a flicker of a smile accompanying the remark. Memory might not be his strong suit at the moment, but at least his modesty isn’t missing.
He can feel the heat suffuse across his face and ears and down his neck as James growls in his ear, aware that he looks good and not ashamed in the least, but there's something about hearing it said to him like that that warms every inch of skin on his body even more in the presence of firelight. He's honestly impressed by the patience his companion is just barely clinging to, almost as impressed as he is with his own patience. The desire to just impale himself and fuck the other man hard readily occurred to Dorian, he could deal with the consequences later, the needy, wanton, gluttonous part wanted the sting of a good pounding and he wanted to feel it all night. Part of him could care less if he couldn't move tomorrow, if he spent the entire day alternating between warm soaks and laying on his stomach, it would be worth it.
He had some sense left in him, enough to prepare his body, take it slowly, measure his movements, and adjust to the stretching. He would still feel it tomorrow, he wanted to feel it tomorrow, but he could at least mitigate some of the consequences for both of them. As it was he was finding it difficult to hang on to the tattered bits of his sanity with James palming and pumping him, stroking and teasing him, gentle, clever fingers between his legs, on his thighs, it was driving him wild. He couldn't hold himself back when James took him in his insubstantial grip, it was so good to feel the warmth and texture of the man's fist, but it wasn't nearly tight enough or fast enough and Dorian felt a noise erupt from his chest that was somewhere between a strangled gasp and a clipped whine.
He felt his body collapse against James, his face buried in the man's burly chest as his hips jerked impatiently trying to find a rhythm. He nudged his face up, blindly kissing his way along the planes and plateaus of his companion's boy, to the curve of neck and shoulder, the cut of his jaw, the warmth of his cheek, his breath warm and sultry as he finally caught James's mouth in a brief, needy, messy kiss, "please...Maker...you're a tease, James...come on amatus..."
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For the time being, he watched his companion standing in front of the fire in deep contemplation the fire throwing him into sharp relief. Dorian just enjoyed the moment, watching how the flickering light played on James's face. When James joined him on the sofa, Dorian poured him a glass of red wine, passing it to him turning his body so that he was facing the other man while they spoke.
"Like swallowing a peach pit knowing it would end badly," Dorian said grinning, "I guess one would describe it as a gilded cage it's a pretty and privileged life on the outside. I could have pretended, I suppose, wear fancy clothes, convince everyone I'm something I'm not. Then I could take a position in court, whore myself out, and desperately hope no one realizes what a fraud I am. I suppose that would be the aptest description."
Dorian said this as he took a sip of wine.
"There's power and money, luxuries and favor involved and all of that...but you're also performing, and the performance never ends. You either put on a show or you're breakfast, it's all the gold shitting that draws people to cling on to the power they have otherwise there's not as much glamor as one might expect."
Another sip of wine.
"I find myself infinitely more satisfied away from all of that, toss it on the fire and be done with it. I can do as I like, give my affections to who I wish, and expand my own horizons."
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His arms stretch along the back of the sofa as he tips up his glass. The same warm, calming feeling of standing in front of the fire comes over him while listening to Dorian and letting the wine settle in his stomach.
For all the ways Dorian’s distanced himself from the sort of life someone else laid out for him there’s no doubt in Logan’s mind that the man’s education and upbringing play some role in his eloquent and charismatic nature.
“You don’t have any taste for power?” he asks smiling and rolling a small fold of Dorian’s silk tunic between his fingers before his eyes rove about the room again, full of its ornate decor. “I won’t ask about your taste for luxury. I think I know the answer to that.”
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And Logan isn't also wrong in his assessment, his upbringing, and education have afforded him a great deal of charm and the ability to speak to people in a flattering way. Though one could argue that this is also personality as well given how suggestive his mannerisms could be. His teachers did not gift him with the ability to be a practiced flirt with a crackerjack wit. That was purely inherent.
"Magic is power, I was born with it, it's a part of me as much as my hand is attached to my wrist and I appreciate it...revel in it...and respect it. Power is also a temptation...and to watch people succumb to it, need more of it...always more...it's a bit terrifying," Dorian confessed, yes he was afraid of temptation, the lure of power, "that isn't to say I wouldn't enjoy having enough influence to shift the balance of power...but it is a balancing act. I am afraid of what power could do to me."
Dorian glanced around the room before fixing his eyes on James's profile, keenly aware of the fingers fondling the silk of his tunic.
"Do you now?" Dorian was, of course, quite easy to read when it came to things like luxury, he enjoyed it. He enjoyed his wines, books, clothes, and magical trinkets. Could he live without it, certainly, did it give him the satisfaction he needed in life, not always...but like any guilty pleasure Dorian enjoyed it. Tipping his head a bit while James was distracted he brushed his lips against the heel of his companion's hand, "I suppose you're right...but my appreciation runs deeper than the material. There are other things one can cherish."
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“That’s why you avoid blood magic?” He asks, sipping the last of the wine in his glass. “It sounds like the price of that power isn’t worth it to you.” Temptation and power all feel like familiar struggles. Even without knowing who or what was said, he knows he’s had countless conversations about giving in to some sort of urge before. It makes him think that whatever control Dorian has found for himself might be something Logan's not yet mastered. But it is something Dorian probably deserves to know about.
“I think I do,” he chuckles. Grazing his knuckles along Dorian’s cheek. “It looks good on you though. You wear it well. All this.” The playful way the other man prickles to be teased delights Logan like no other. Makes him want to find other ways of getting a rise out of his companion. He turns himself towards Dorian, looking a bit more bashful than outright amused with himself, but nevertheless happy to egg the man on. “What else does Dorian Pavus appreciate?”
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But enough of that for the moment, right now he was too busy focusing on the heat suffusing his body as James's knuckles caressed his cheek, soaking up the compliments like the wine soaking into his brain. Really, it was intoxicating for Dorian, being complimented of course tickled his vanity, but at the same time compliments geared towards his virtues as well stirred him up. He didn't know what to do when people paid attention to things that simply weren't important in his position. The tightness in his chest when James gives him another bashful look and the question that follows is enough for Dorian to forget for the moment that he was supposed to be protecting his companion...from...whatever...
...there was the temptation of power and the temptation of that bashful expression and those blue eyes. One he had far more practice in pushing down than the other and so to answer James's question the mage leaned over, bracing one hand on the back of the couch, the other on the arm of the sofa nearest his companion. Leaning in he covered the other man's mouth with his own, kissing him in a manner Dorian considered chaste, but full wanting to experience him for a few precious seconds before drawing back and noting how good he tasted with a hint of wine clinging to his lips, "...does this answer your question?"
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He draws his bottom lip between his teeth when Dorian puts enough space for breath between them again. Tasting the faintest trace of the man on his lips when that kiss only left him with so much to revel in. “It’s a good start,” he chuckles. “Raises a few questions too. But. I can think of better ways to ask.”
The arm outstretched along the back of the couch doesn’t hold onto the fabric of his tunic anymore. Instead he drapes it around Dorian’s shoulders. First, raking his finger through the man’s hair and soon holding him steady when Logan leans off the back of the couch to kiss him again. Instead though, he stops just short of the other man’s mouth to whisper— a volume that to Logan’s voice borders on a growl.
“I know you’ve got a penchant for finery. But I’m not like these nice things, Dorian. I’m not fragile. I won’t break,” he says. The curl at the corner of his mouth turns his smile a little more wild and willful than perhaps he might have been taken for these last few days— wandering around lost like some naive soul.
“There’s lots of things I don’t have a memory for, that I know aren’t new to me. Just by feel. Or taste…” And when he does take that kiss, it’s firmer this time. Toothier. Hungrier.
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Before he could conjure up a witty retort James had gone from being a hairsbreadth away from him to kissing him fully. Dorian could think of nothing else, he untucked his legs, stretching them out along the couch while his arms draped around James pulling on the man as their mouths worked one another hungrily. This kiss was different from the first, open-mouthed, the dueling of tongues as Dorian found himself eager to taste his companion's depths, the desperation in the way he nipped at Jame's bottom lip tugging slightly. It was a whole jaw workout and he held tightly to the other man's body concerned that his own arms would fail him if he let go.
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And he's clearly more comfortable when someone believes both are true about him.
He grins against Dorian's lips when the man drags him in. Peeling himself off his own seat to get closer still, drinking in the taste of wine off Dorian's tongue until all he can taste is the man himself.
"C'mere," he mutters breathlessly. Nodding to his lap as he drags Dorian to him by a fistful of his shirt. He rucks that garment up when his hands rove up the other man's back. Relishing the broad expanse of warm skin that Logan imagines is just as bronze as the rest of the man.
"Why do I feel like the rest of you is as well groomed as all this?" he smirks and drags his thumb over the particular little stroke of hair under Dorian's lip. It's not much of a guess really. He's been able to smell whatever soaps or oils the man favours since the first time they've met. Now that faint spice mingles with the tastes of him and together makes for a stronger buzz than the wine.
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Instead of following his lust-addled desires, he pulled himself up onto his knees and straddled his companion, long legs on either side of his lap. Once he'd followed the entreaty the mage lowered himself into the inviting lap, helped by James tugging on his shirt, he shivered in delight as fingers snuck their way up the back of the silky fabric, skin against skin.
"You've got me..." Dorian murmured in his soft velvety voice a whisper against the skin of Jame's throat. He gave his companion's chin a nudge with the tip of his nose so that he could draw a line from the dip of his collar to the soft pallet of flesh just under his chin. He drew back once more at the observation James made about his grooming, grinning as the man thumbed the patch of hair under his lip.
"Aside from being meticulous, why don't I show you," the mage thumbed at the clasp at his neck and a few more that ran diagonally across his chest allowing the tunic to unfold, exposing half of his chest. Apart from the smooth tantalizing skin on display, there was a necklace with an amulet nestled within the valley of his chest, an artifact he kept hidden under his clothing, it made a soft metallic noise as the mage peeled the shirt off over his head revealing a smooth, well-groomed body underneath, a sheen from the oils and lotions he used to take care of himself clung to his skin giving his body a warm glow in the firelight.
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“Uh huh,” he nods dumbly at the offer. His blue eyes looking darker already. Blown wide in the dimly lit room to take in everything Dorian promises to show him.
Noting where all those buckles were seems like a thing worth remembering, but the more they fall open the less certain he is about committing any such practical details to memory.
He drags his fingers down Dorian’s throat. Lightly at first. His heavy hands capable of surprising delicacy over the tender chords of the other man’s throat. But that touch get’s rougher quickly. Eager to feel out a body he’s known to be sturdy since the first time Dorian slung an arm around him.
“I don’t remember any magicians lookin’ like this where I come from,” he mumbles, raking his fingers across Dorian’s chest until that amulet lays against his knuckles.
“What’s this? Magical?”
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"Mm..." the statement was enough to bring the mage out of his cloud of filthy thoughts and Dorian glanced down at his own body, a body he was rightly proud of, "...ah...well most mages where I come from are more cerebral fighters...not melee fighters...we operate at a distance so there's really no point in physical upkeep. I'm not a hand-to-hand fighter myself, I'd likely lose in a situation that required it..."
As evidenced by Dorian nearly pitching over if the Inquisitor punches him, another scenario in an alternate timeline, but still.
"I...do understand the necessity though so I've trained in a bit of martial arts...when my magic is low I can use my staff as a bo...and bash things pretty effectively," Dorian grinned dropping another brief kiss to his companion's lips. It explained why his body was firm and toned with muscle, he wasn't a lazy mage in that regard.
When asked about the pendant hanging around his neck Dorian, "the only power that thing has is the power to make peons tremble at your impressive lineage...it's been a pain in my arse, really..."
Dorian said all of this distractedly as he dropped kisses on his companion's face.
"...didn't leave home with much in the way of coin..." he peppered more kisses along the side of James's neck, "...sold it to a charlatan so that I could survive long enough to achieve my goals...a foolish and forbidden thing to do of course..."
He nosed at the collar of the other man's shirt, "...but I was desperate...nnnn...the bastard charged me a fortune for its return..."
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Instead, Logan collects himself with a breath. Lets his head rest along the back of the couch, revelling in the eloquence of Dorian’s voice, the rolling of his breath along his skin and the heat of his mouth that follows.
“Purely… aesthetic, hn?” He murmurs. Not unaware of the fact that his teasing becomes amusingly pitiable when he can barely come to the right words through all his distraction. His hands push that open shirt over Dorian’s shoulders. Unabashed about wringing the other man’s muscles as they pass beneath his hands.
That glib remark about his pendant makes Logan chuckle, but every time Dorian’s weight shifts between his words and his kisses, he moves slightly beneath him. It’s an involuntary thing, devoid of his focus, brought on by the unyielding interest of his hips to position him directly under the brunt of the other man’s weight for something firm to rut against.
“Foolish and forbidden sounds like a habit of yours,” he smiles fondly. The heels of his hands pushing Dorian back from him. Just upright enough that he can bury his face against that bronze chest and kiss the skin where that amulet lies. His pronounced canine teeth leave slight tracks with every tentative bite. Something for his tongue to salve after every bite.
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Of course, he can make no claims to doing much better, not when his shirt slides off of his shoulders, baring him to the other man's touch. Small, pleased noises bubble up from his throat and vibrate against James's skin as warm hands knead at the muscles in his back. He sucks at the pulse point of his companion's neck knowing any mark he might desperately try to leave wouldn't stick, but it did give him a way to ground his desires.
And his desires were becoming more wildly difficult to contain as James shifted underneath him giving him leverage to grind down and rub himself more insistently for the ends his body demanded. He certainly had more control, but he also had all night so whether he got off now or later, they had time to take it as slower. His senses were so enraptured by James he couldn't help but want to go the natural course, this time anyway.
"A habit I clearly embody," Dorian said through a soft chuckle pulling back just enough to nip James's jaw playfully before his companion coaxed him back eliciting an intrigued eyebrow raise from him. Ah...the mage allowed his head to drop back as lips began their conquest of his chest. Dorian was torn between soft sighs and gritty moans as the other man's mouth alternated between devouring and generous. He found purchase in James's hair, fingers raking through hair and over his scalp before anchoring himself by fisting his hair once again.
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“It looks good on you,” he groans when the way Dorian moves on top of him becomes something much more intentional. His own hips roll forward, eager for the pressure but quickly setting a rhythm he knows better than to set so early.
He lays his forehead against Dorian’s chest when that drunken feeling makes his head start to swim. His hands settle on Dorian’s hips. Thumb grazing the smooth flanks of his stomach while he catches his breath and gets a look at his belt. Both things designed to slow him down, collect his sense of control and not give into that desire to rush towards completion.
“You should know… there’s something animal about me,” he mutters, dragging his fingers down the other man’s belly and unhitching the clasp of his belt. So unhurried in his effort that Dorian could still tell him no. If he wanted to.
“Everything has a scent. I can hear things people can’t. And sometimes… there this impulse.” When a breath meant to steady him he looks up at the man whose gaze he can still feel on him, even through the strong, secure feeling of those hands in his hair. “I though you should know, is all.”
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"I'm glad you approve," Dorian managed to find it in him to chuckle as he dipped down to kiss James's forehead, an endearing kiss that was brief but it conveyed his gratitude. Dorian was often grateful toward anyone who could put up with the full force of his personality.
Dorian's body was shuddering involuntarily as fingers ghosted their way over his stomach intensifying the flutterings he felt in his pelvis region. It only caused his excitement to grow, his anticipation to heighten, his curiosity to escalate. His mind was reeling with images of James in a variety of positions, he was curious about his tastes, what he liked and maybe instinct would direct him in things that pleased him most.
It took Dorian a moment to realize James was making words at him when his companion began working at his belt, it took him another moment to process what words even meant anymore. He had to breathe in order to reestablish control over his libido, over the ache in him that demanded he toppled James onto the couch and sprawl across him while they continued feeling each other up.
"Mmm...well then I can only hope that I please your senses..." Dorian allowed the hands in James's hair to stray to his face, his thumb rubbing the bridge of the man's nose affectionately, "...as for your impulses, if they involve, scratching, biting, fucking or any number of unimaginably naughty things that tickle your fancy...I'm here to help you explore all of it."
Dorian tipped James's face to him and kissed his lips again thoroughly, promising the man everything including an open mind. From his lips he kissed his way to Jame's ear, hands restlessly moving to tug at the man's shirt, wanting to hike it over his head, but at the same time wanting to kiss him, so he settled for pushing the fabric as far up as he could. It was quite something to be able to knead all of that muscle under his palms, to run his fingers over chest hair, to idly roll and tug at a nipple between his fingers.
"If there's anything you like..." Dorian continued, murmuring against the shell of James's ear, alternating between speaking, and worrying at his lobe with his teeth and tongue, "...just keep in mind...I have magic fingers..."
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“You do. Smell so good. You dunno what it does to me… ” he mumbles drawing in a deep breath of the man who smells to him both impeccably well groomed and increasingly aroused. It’s enough to make his head swim as he draws down the other man’s open pants, as far as he can get them with Dorian atop him and lets his palms settle on the curve of Dorian’s backside. Pulling Dorian closer against the increasingly stiff dick still bound up by his pants.
“All of those things…” he confesses breathlessly against the man’s lips, relishing as much in a sense of relief as anticipation to know Dorian expects no less of him.
“I like it when yer rough with me. And then you go do something sweet like that,” he chuckles. It’s a heady mixture to feel both the strength and softness of Dorian’s hand one moment to the next. His chin turned up to his companion, Logan closes his eyes when Dorian’s fingers trace the angles of his face. “And I like you sat up there like that. Where I can watch you,” he huffs when a few clear thoughts manage to make it past his lips.
“Magic…” His smile starts to look drunken the more Dorian toys with him— whether stroking his chest or nibbling his ear. The groan that it pulls out of him starts to sound more like the purr of some large predatory cat than anything else. With a few lazy pulls on the buttons of his shirt he shrugs the plaid thing off his shoulders and does stop to see where it lands when he tosses it.
“What do you like to do with your magic fingers? Show me?”
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"I confess...I do like watching what it does to you..." Dorian said, his voice low, and warm, that amber honey and silk tone caressing his companion's skin as he spoke. His fingers commit the other man's strong features to memory, stroking over the lids of his closed eyes, the surprising softness of lips, his chin. Dorian drank him in with the same care he showed for fine wine and literature, eyes glowing with warmth as he took in the face framed by his fingers, measure by measure.
His breathing hitched as clever fingers found their way into his pants freeing his cock and baring his ass. His body surged forward and he could feel a groan rip itself from his chest as his arousal rubbed up against James's, still clothed, member flexing his hips forward so he could rut up against the solid mound hidden under clothing. Dorian was patient, but he was only too eager to see his companion's perfect compact body completely naked.
"We have...plenty of time to explore our options..." Dorian promised with a kiss that started out soft and then turned to a nip and a gentle tug on James's bottom lip before pulling back once more. His fingers went to the man's neck next, circling his throat, massaging warm skin under his palms, thumbs pressing delicately against his Adam's apple.
"Mmmm...I knew you had a naughty side, I'll have to see how deep it goes," leaning in he nuzzled the side of James's face, chuckling warmly, giving himself a moment to indulge in just how intimate this was. What a vulnerable feeling he often tried so hard to smother beneath layers of glibness. This time he couldn't help himself, "...love a man who enjoys a good show..." and Dorian enjoys being watched so there are no complaints here if James wants him where he can see him at all times.
Dorian sat back just enough when James tugged the buttons of his shirt open and tossed the fabric away, the mage was less concerned with where it went than the fact that he'd been graced with free access to that chest. Like his companion, he wanted to bury himself against the brad planes, kissing his way along with muscles and over the dusting of hair that only made him more attractive. It was a plan he momentarily put on pause when James requested he be shown personally what he liked to do with his magic fingers.
"Anything..." Dorian murmured, sinking his teeth into the muscle between neck and shoulder, enough to be sharp, but not enough to cause pain. He pulled back after a moment before levering himself to his feet, steadying himself on the couch in front of James, no doubt giving his companion an eyeful as he discarded his pants completely, the would only get in the way. Then he dove back into James, rolling the man playfully until he was flat on his back and Dorian was on all fours, caging him under his body, dark brown hair framing his face in damp waves. he couldn't be more grateful that this sofa had a broadness and softness to it that made sex enjoyable...though if James had enough desire in him Dorian planned on having the man on every available surface of his home. A thought for another time, though there was something delectable in the idea of being bent of bending James over various pieces of furniture.
Raising one hand he magicked ice to the tips of his fingers, he didn't want to be freezing cold, he wanted James to feel the bite for just a moment before it melted into his skin. Wiggling his fingers playfully he began tracing patterns over flesh, from the line of his companion's neck to the solid curve of his shoulder, down his arm, and over each finger. His lips set to work immediately following the frozen path that quickly melted into rivulets of water, sucking the liquid up until he arrived at James's fingers and he licked each in turn, not bothering to hide what it suggested when he pulled his companion's middle finger fully between his lips.
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His tongue reaches tentatively for that thumb that passes briefly across his lips. He doesn’t catch that fleeting touch that maps his face, but still he can taste the man on his lips. A faint flavour that Dorian corrects soon, out of either want or pity for him. Not that Logan minds either. Not when what he gets is the fullness of Dorian’s lips against his own and raking of his teeth first against his lip and soon against his neck in way that always leaves his skin prickled with goosebumps.
He groans when Dorian ruts against him and again when the man’s teeth threaten to puncture his skin. His hand leaves its hold on his hip to run up the length of Dorian’s cock. Warm and heavy against his palm. Providing just enough friction to tantalize and frustrate, but not nearly enough to really drive him along.
If there’s anything to appreciate in not knowing who he is, it’s the century worth of baggage he’s left behind. Like Dorian, he has a tendency to smother anything remotely vulnerable under pragmatism, or cynicism, or some degree of both. Learned habits of course, all of which are are unlearned, however temporarily. He’s tempted to reach for the man when he stand before him bare, but he’s pliant to Dorian’s own plans when the man topples him again to trace chill seams across his bare, flushed body.
“Fuck,” His breath catches in his throat, his chest inflating against the briefly burning cold. It reminds him far gone places, and quiet wintery mountains where the air is so brittle and dry it burns your lungs. Together it’s a heady mixture of familiar and invigorating. All the more so to watch Dorian drink the melted frost from his skin and draw his finger between his lips.
“Dorian… jesus...” he growls curling his finger against the man’s tongue. “Suck me. Just like that.”
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Waking up with such a perfect body so warm against his own would be a rare treat, and he couldn't help himself, he was quite fond of James. Dangerously fond of him, the sort of fondness that went beyond physical pleasure that ventured into simply wanting to give territory, but Dorian was constantly wary of the pain. He shoved that to the back of his mind as an issue to deal with later or maybe not ever because like his companion it's easier to bury the emotions than address them and he had more enticing distractions. How James responded to his lips, to his body, to his touch...it was an experience. At the entreaty, Dorian nibbled at the pads of James's fingers playfully, drawing his tongue over the other man's palm once before giving in to the desperate request.
"Insolent..." the mage rocked back on his haunches, grinning broadly, his eyes following James body all the way up to his eyes. Such fetching blue eyes that held him captive and he wanted to convey to them all of the hideously inappropriate things he wanted to enjoy with James, convey it with a single look. He didn't take his eyes off of the man while his fingers worked his pants open, he held his gaze as he worked the last barrier between James and himself off and out of the way, fondling the man's ass, feeling him up and down as he went until he'd finally freed James of every constraining piece. Gloriously naked at last Forian affectionally rubbed the turn of James's ankle appreciatively before leaning back over him, "...I like it..."
His breath was heady against James's cock, and he turned his eyes, now dark and hooded with lust upward as his lips ghosted along the warm heat of his companions straining arousal, "...if it fair to say I want you to be greedy...that even when I'm exhausted I still want to feel your body...it would hardly be an imposition to have sex with you until I pass out...wring yourself out until you're dry..."
He took a sharp nip at James's hip before sliding his lips over the swollen tip of his companion's arousal and inching the man slowly into his throat. His taste, his scent, he was maddening and glorious all at once. Using one hand to brace himself he allowed his other hand to coast all the way up the length of the man's body to caress his face whishing he would be everywhere at once.
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The look on Logan’s face is that of a starved man watching someone enjoy their meal. Mouth slightly agape and his chest rising and falling in anticipation of that moment the warmth of his breath turns into the warmth of his tongue.
“Ahh…” He groans. His eyes, first so fixated on the sight of his cock disappearing between Dorian’s lips, quickly become frustratingly bleary. No amount of fluttering of his eyelids can seem to focus his dark eyes, so wildly dilated by the sights and sensations of Dorian’s mouth around him, wet and welcoming. His hands cradle the man’s head at first. Careful not to apply any additional force. Just wanting to curl his fingers in the man’s dark hair for something to anchor himself. A thing Dorian’s blind reach soon helps provide.
His stomach tightens visibly every time the man draws back. His lips drawing up the tip and the rest of him wet and cooling in the air. “Please…” he mutters, but the unfocused look on his face makes it clear he has little idea what he’s pleading for.
Planting an elbow into the sofa he props himself up enough to keep watching but breathlessly his head falls back time and time again when the draw of Dorian’s tongue up the underside of his dick leaves him dizzy. He swallows roughly when the hand splayed across his chest moves up his neck. Feeling his Adam’s apple shift beneath his companions fingers. He gnashes lazily at Dorian’s hand. Parting his lips for those first two fingers, his balls ache when they press across his tongue.
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It was difficult enjoying the buffet of visual delights while ignoring his own cock, but one hand was trying to keep his body steady, and the other hand was busy teasing their way into James's pleading mouth. Dorian could feel a moan vibrate through his body and around the heat filling his mouth as his fingers were invited past those lips. He couldn't resist fucking the man's mouth with his fingers, exploring him, enjoying the sensation of his tongue and the wet heat, wishing it was his own cock instead, brushing up against those canines. He summoned a bit of ice to his fingertips, something for James to suck on, to encourage that salivating, to slick up his own fingers.
With a wet pop, he drew himself off of James's cock, kissing the flushed head reverently before nudging his companion's balls with his nose. Tight, perfect globes straining for release. He flicked at each in turn with his tongue for a few idle moments before levering himself up so he could look into James's face, fingers still thrusting into his mouth, "I can't recall ever seeing anyone quite so lovely."
Dorian offered James a lopsided grin.
"These fingers..." Dorian said emphasizing the ones that were currently stuffed inside of James's mouth, "...tell me, would you prefer they be used to prepare your body, or should I use them to open myself?"
He drew his fingers back just enough to give James the room to speak asking him if he would prefer to be the one taking or receiving this time around.
"I don't mind either...I want to see you in as many lewd positions as I can manage before morning...so there's time for exploration..." leaning over he kissed James's forehead reassuringly so that he was aware that his companion's choice wouldn't change anything.
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“Mmh,” he mumbles around the fingers in his mouth. Stealing an audible breath when the little chill that cools his tongue takes him by surprise. He narrows his eyes suspiciously at the mage. His lips too much occupied to offer him much in the way of a mischievous smile. The faint frost changes the texture of Dorian’s skin just long enough to melt against his tongue until he can’t keep it from dribbling past his lips unless he’s drinking it down and.
The word flatterer comes to mind, but can’t be spoken with his mouth full. Instead he strains his hips towards the man who worked him up like this only to make him wait when he can’t bring himself to sit and wallow in such earnest affection without squirming.
The question itself and the patient way he’s offered some choice while Dorian feeds him his fingers leaves a fog at the forefront of his brain. He groans and his eyes flutter when just picturing his options makes that fevered heat filling his cock reach a new pitch. Leaving him desperately leaking precum.
He slurps back the last drip from Dorian’s finger tips but Logan’s nodding dumbly before he can articulate anything. “You. I want you,” he growls, drawing Dorian closer with a heavy hand on the back of his neck until he can gnash kisses at the man’s full lips and and the tender slope beneath his jaw. The other reaches for the buck of his thigh, urging him back up at the hips. “I wanna be inside you. Anyway you want it. Let me make you moan, Dorian.”
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"I...do like the idea of you making me moan..." Dorian said smiling and canting his head to the side a bit so James can continue his kisses. For his part the mage lowered himself down on top of the warm body beneath his own, he could feel the vibrations of pleasure and it tore another soft groan from him. His hips arched up just enough to give his still slick fingers the space he needed to find and tease apart his asscheeks so he could work them into the tight ring of flesh. He shuddered a bit and bowed his head against James's substantial chest, controlling his breathing while his fingers stretched out that part of him. It wouldn't take much, the mage only required just enough preparation to relax his body and soften himself up for James.
While he worked his fingers inside, twisting and scissoring while thrusting vigorously enough to have his hips pitching forward so that he was rubbing against the other man, his mouth occupied itself with slightly more aggressive pursuits. Teeth sank into meaty muscle, not enough to cause any harm, but enough to be almost possessive. A few solid bites, was followed by several gentler nips, and then he found a nipple and he willed himself to be gentler here. Only lightly tugging with his teeth before flattening his tongue against the hard nub and then sucking hungrily. It was his way of communicating his own needs and appetites.
When he'd strained his own tolerance to the point of being brittle Dorian withdrew his fingers and repositioned himself so that he was more upright, a hand pressing firmly onto the other man's chest while his hips angled toward his cock. He freed up the other hand so that he could guide the tip of James's cock to his hole, spreading his legs as wide as he could manage and still maintain his balance while doing so. The man was blessed and Dorian could feel the sting as his muscles resisted and he inhaled sharply. It wasn't bad it was an experience and one he'd been deprived of far longer than he would have liked.
"Anyone...ever tell you...that you have quite...the endowment..." Dorian managed through gritted teeth, his head bowed and his forehead gleaming with a light sheen of sweat.
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Mouthing hungrily at Dorian’s neck only lasts so long as he can go without watching the other man touch himself. The picture that chiseled body makes to penetrate himself is all angles and olive skin made gold by the flicker of the fire. He drags his tongue along the chord of his neck that disappears into his clavicle expecting him to taste of something as warm and spiced as the lighting makes him appear.
When Dorian hangs his head through that moment of resistance Logan cradles the nape of his neck. His blunt fingers lovingly raking through the fuzz of his short hair and soon down the man’s back to settle on an encouraging rhythm right at the small of his back. He takes a deep breath with his nose buried in Dorian’s hair, drinking in the scent of his growing arousal before he draws the man’s ear between his lips. “You look like sin,” he snarls. His lips curled by the switch of teeth and tongue across his chest.
The hand planted on his chest used to push Dorian upright braces the man’s weight against him in a way that makes Logan groan. He pushes against it just to feel himself further manhandled. Watching his partner stretching out above him, it’s all Logan can do not to interrupt when Dorian takes his cock in hand, but every time he feels that tight hole give way to him his resolve grows thinner.
When Dorian’s expression looks pinched Logan reaches for him. His heavy hands unexpectedly tender as he strokes the soft, thin skin that runs up the inside of Dorian’s taut thighs. Like he could soothe the discomfort away or at least provide enough pleasure to be distracting. He thumbs the chord between Dorian’s groin and his thigh until he’s palming the man’s balls and running a loose fist up the length of his cock.
“I… I’d like to think so,” he huffs, a flicker of a smile accompanying the remark. Memory might not be his strong suit at the moment, but at least his modesty isn’t missing.
How this missed my inbox is a mystery!
He had some sense left in him, enough to prepare his body, take it slowly, measure his movements, and adjust to the stretching. He would still feel it tomorrow, he wanted to feel it tomorrow, but he could at least mitigate some of the consequences for both of them. As it was he was finding it difficult to hang on to the tattered bits of his sanity with James palming and pumping him, stroking and teasing him, gentle, clever fingers between his legs, on his thighs, it was driving him wild. He couldn't hold himself back when James took him in his insubstantial grip, it was so good to feel the warmth and texture of the man's fist, but it wasn't nearly tight enough or fast enough and Dorian felt a noise erupt from his chest that was somewhere between a strangled gasp and a clipped whine.
He felt his body collapse against James, his face buried in the man's burly chest as his hips jerked impatiently trying to find a rhythm. He nudged his face up, blindly kissing his way along the planes and plateaus of his companion's boy, to the curve of neck and shoulder, the cut of his jaw, the warmth of his cheek, his breath warm and sultry as he finally caught James's mouth in a brief, needy, messy kiss, "please...Maker...you're a tease, James...come on amatus..."
no worries! i've been travelling home this week anyway. still getting back to rp stuff.
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