[ Oh. That makes a little more sense, even if he hadn't quite thought about it in that way.
Larus doesn't even mind it really, focusing on nothing but Dorian as he moves closer and rests between his thighs. It helps him ease into a slightly better position to accommodate him, picking up on the slight increase of that heartbeat when that kiss ends and he feels the rush of Dorian's breath between them. This is something he thinks he enjoys without any irony to it: kissing him. He can feel so many different things, experience several sensations of life in the press of his body and the taste of his mouth. Before Larus says anything else, he presses forward to draw him back in—deep, the slide of his tongue over Dorian's and briefly across his teeth. Savoring, longing for more.
He offers a soft hum in response and nothing else, running his hands along Dorian's back and down to his hips. It's good just to feel him, to remember that he's not anywhere else but right there surrounded by warm skin, and Larus repays that notion with the slightest lift of his hips, slowly curling a foot around one of Dorian's calves for leverage so he can press back against him. A lazy sort of grind, one that conveys he's already a little hard. And when his fingers sweep up to sink into dark hair, he urges him close for another kiss that he takes extra time to explore. Like he's memorizing every nuance of it for no reason other than he wants to. ]
[This is why Dorian prefers sex with a partner to anything he might do by himself. Feeling the slow uptick of desire in the way Larus tastes him and in the pressing of his hips is something he craves, and that he enjoys being the source of. His hands pass over the chill, but slowly-warming flesh beneath him in turn, appreciating Larus' shape, and folding limbs further apart with touches to his inner thighs to fit himself against the vampire more comfortably.
He'd love to progress to fucking him from this point, but he did make a promise of sorts. One that won't work the way he wants unless he waits for the right moment.
To that end, Dorian ends their most recent kiss with a more purposeful slip of teeth over Larus' bottom lip. His gaze flicks to meet the other man's briefly, and then he shifts to start pressing more purposeful, open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat instead, a hand gripping Larus' inner thigh shifting to wrap warm fingers around his cock instead. He won't do much here, but he does give him a heady squeeze, craving the feeling of him filling and stiffening in his hand. Once he's started to unravel, that's when he'll move on.]
[ It's a different sort of pleasure that comes from the slow purposefulness of Dorian's mouth and the heat of his hands as they touch him. There's no real rush to it, even if Larus wouldn't have minded if there had been. The first time had been like that, exploring touches and the excitement of something new. Even the second time, when he'd committed to fully giving himself to Dorian, there'd been a sort of haste to it that isn't really present now, tipping his head back to accommodate the slide of those kisses and stare at the indistinct shape of the ceiling as he focuses on Dorian's heartbeat. Steady, strong. Just a little faster when fingers curl around him and squeeze.
Larus gives an instinctive shift of his hips, wanting more but not enough to ask for it. That, too, isn't the same as before, thinking back to the way he'd spread his legs and nearly begged. Just for the closeness, a connection that he continues to crave from the man resting over him. Which is probably why he doesn't fight any of it now, exhaling a purposeful breath as he lets his hands stroke over the smooth skin of Dorian's sides. He trails them over his ribs, down to his hips and lightly digs his fingertips in when he's completely hard against him. There's always a lot of sensation with sex, too many variables that make it impossible to focus on one thing for very long, and when he says his name, it's muted but questioning.
Because he doesn't have to tease him, even if that might be what he's doing. It just has Larus idly running his hands up Dorian's back and sinking them into his hair where the urge to lightly pull grows until he can't resist it any longer. ]
[This is what he was waiting for. The offering of his name, that push of hips into his hand. It's all quiet, but it's enough. Larus is a subtle lover, but Dorian's paying attention and has been searching for the signs that it's a good moment to push them forward.]
I can hear your thoughts churning. [It's an amused and friendly observation, as Dorian reaches for the lubricant and then uncaps it to spread a generous amount over his fingers.] Is this too slow?
[It might be, if he has enough time to think. Really, he just can't resist ribbing the other man a little for it.]
[ There's a low sound when he hears the soft pop of the bottle, a distracted sort of thing because he's now thinking about Dorian's fingers inside him. An answer settles at the tip of his tongue, fingers still gently pulling at dark hair as he shifts to open himself up for what's to come—legs spread a bit wider, a knee bent to offer more room. ]
I was thinking about our first time together. [ Which doesn't mean much beyond that because he immediately follows up with: ] I don't mind if it's slow.
[ He really doesn't. They'll get there eventually. ]
[About their first time? Why, he wonders, if it's not simply some unbidden thought. It's not the time to ask though, and after offering his own interruption in all of this, he doesn't want them to suffer another by starting a conversation. Not when they're already most of the way there to where he wants to be with this man in this moment. It's a pretty sight that's waiting for him in said moment, too, as Larus spreads himself out for him, interested in his touch.]
In that case, forget I said anything. [It's not a moody comment, simply something offered neutrally to bring things back to where they should be right now.
Dorian leans in, one hand wrapping around the inside of a soft, and well-muscled thigh, the bluntness of his fingernails pressing in with interest as he moves closer. He breaks their shared gaze through the darkness to attend to what he's doing, the softness of his curls tumbling against Larus' forehead as he reaches between the other man's legs to spread some of the lubricant there, and then easily slips fingers inside him.
The feeling of it, chill and tight, is already something he wants to replace with his cock, but he'll take some time to stretch Larus amply so that this time when he takes him there's no immediate pain. His lips press along the line of Larus' jaw as he does, sometimes grazing teeth from a simmering need for him, until Dorian finally gets the sense that he's prepared the other man enough.
And now the reason for the headboard: Pulling everything away, Dorian braces himself on the sturdiness of it with one hand, his other coming to wrap around his cock. His gaze flicks up to meet Larus' briefly, interested in his expression, before it falls away again when the waiting becomes too much. He's not exactly gentle with the way he pushes the head of his cock against Larus, and then inside him in a steady slide, but at least this time there's no resistance to the motion. Dorian's breath leaves him in a rush as he seats himself, his free hand coming to wrap hard around Larus' hip as he adjusts to the first few moments of tightness, and the immediate pleasure that climbs up his spine at the feeling.]
[ He expects something more to come of the comment, but it doesn't. It's easy to let go of anyhow, especially with the solid heat of Dorian's body coming over his in different ways. The press of his fingers, the fan of his breath. The tease of his lips across his skin. All of it is wrapped up in an intimacy he craves, especially after having been alone for so long against his will, and Larus urges him for more even before his body has fully relaxed to the idea of it.
Pain is nothing. Discomfort he can handle when it's what he wants.
And with that thought, he knows he wants him. He wants Dorian.
That slight roughness is welcome, a muted sound in the back of his throat at the unexpected delight of it, but he's quiet once more after that, focused so intensely on Dorian's pulse and the change in his breathing that it would have given him a full-body flush if he'd been able. Instead, his hand instinctively comes to rest over the one at his hip, squeezing with unspoken encouragement even as one of his knees presses against him. He gives a testing rock of his body, like there's a possibility to fuck him deeper when he's already fully inside him. ]
Dorian. [ It's short, quiet. Not exactly begging but not entirely sweet either. Like Larus swapped his name for the word move, easing up onto an elbow with his head tipped back slightly in search of somewhere warm to put his mouth. ]
[A kind of rough-edged passion is something they both crave, and the moment Larus settles into it, Dorian is ready for more. They've fucked once already, and he's watched Larus drag himself over the ground while practically skewered through with knife wounds. He's tough, and sometimes roughness is also the only way to penetrate beneath the surface of anything when the life you're used to has you acclimated to pain. The notion is something Dorian experiences, the truth of it resting deep and ever-present beneath his skin. With someone else he might be wantonly selfish in it though, and chase his pleasure at his partner's expense, but he's invested in this: in the man wrapped around him.
It's not something he's really conscious of, especially not now, but it's there.
Dorian grips harder at the top of the headboard as Larus nudges him with his knee, presses him for more in various little ways. It's nothing he can't already tell from the way he's being reacted to, but it is stirring. He doesn't need to be pushed any further.
The first drawing out of the other man is exquisite, immediately promising, but the feeling of driving back into Larus is even better. There's a pillow between them and the headboard, but from the hard way he's fucking into him now, it's good that the tall length of wood is there as a stopgap. In all of it Dorian retains a certain basic level of composure, but his breathing and heart rate give away an unfurling and unfettered desire.]
[ It's a different sort of pleasure when it's with someone he likes. Or tolerates, at the very least, but there's an unusual attraction between the two of them that unravels parts of his thoughts as they move together, shards of it slipping as he pushes into the forward thrust of Dorian's hips rather than flattening himself into the mattress to take the brunt of it. Whatever he's giving him, it sparks at the frenzy buried deep for connection, for an anchor in this moment, and Larus holds onto that, refusing to fight as the hand over Dorian's travels elsewhere.
He skims his side, the small of his back. A touch of sweat, and Larus shivers for some unknown reason, keeping his eyes focused rather sharply on the man over him and the way his body curves rather elegantly. Beautiful, he thinks, not for the first time, almost compelled to whisper it to him in some fashion. The words even form on his lips but become smothered by the overwhelming need to kiss him anywhere he can reach instead, smearing his mouth against the upper part of Dorian's arm, his shoulder.
Simply, without cue, he's drowning, and Larus holds onto him. Tight. Tighter.
It's probably enough to hurt.
His fingers dig into Dorian's thigh to drag him closer, rocking into him with a sort of desperation that's on the edge of snapping completely. The pleasure isn't even something he registers despite how hard he is between them, not so much interested in that as he is everything else. The taste of him on his tongue, the feel of his cock each and every time it finds its way back inside him. The ricochet of his heart beating like a drum in Larus' head, keeping him enthralled and centered and there. It doesn't leave much room to remember the monstrous severity of reality, the damage he's done and the mess he's left behind. It doesn't leave anything but Dorian as the axis of his world, and he grasps at it, squeezing harder and harder until he fears they'll both break. ]
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Larus doesn't even mind it really, focusing on nothing but Dorian as he moves closer and rests between his thighs. It helps him ease into a slightly better position to accommodate him, picking up on the slight increase of that heartbeat when that kiss ends and he feels the rush of Dorian's breath between them. This is something he thinks he enjoys without any irony to it: kissing him. He can feel so many different things, experience several sensations of life in the press of his body and the taste of his mouth. Before Larus says anything else, he presses forward to draw him back in—deep, the slide of his tongue over Dorian's and briefly across his teeth. Savoring, longing for more.
He offers a soft hum in response and nothing else, running his hands along Dorian's back and down to his hips. It's good just to feel him, to remember that he's not anywhere else but right there surrounded by warm skin, and Larus repays that notion with the slightest lift of his hips, slowly curling a foot around one of Dorian's calves for leverage so he can press back against him. A lazy sort of grind, one that conveys he's already a little hard. And when his fingers sweep up to sink into dark hair, he urges him close for another kiss that he takes extra time to explore. Like he's memorizing every nuance of it for no reason other than he wants to. ]
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He'd love to progress to fucking him from this point, but he did make a promise of sorts. One that won't work the way he wants unless he waits for the right moment.
To that end, Dorian ends their most recent kiss with a more purposeful slip of teeth over Larus' bottom lip. His gaze flicks to meet the other man's briefly, and then he shifts to start pressing more purposeful, open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat instead, a hand gripping Larus' inner thigh shifting to wrap warm fingers around his cock instead. He won't do much here, but he does give him a heady squeeze, craving the feeling of him filling and stiffening in his hand. Once he's started to unravel, that's when he'll move on.]
no subject
Larus gives an instinctive shift of his hips, wanting more but not enough to ask for it. That, too, isn't the same as before, thinking back to the way he'd spread his legs and nearly begged. Just for the closeness, a connection that he continues to crave from the man resting over him. Which is probably why he doesn't fight any of it now, exhaling a purposeful breath as he lets his hands stroke over the smooth skin of Dorian's sides. He trails them over his ribs, down to his hips and lightly digs his fingertips in when he's completely hard against him. There's always a lot of sensation with sex, too many variables that make it impossible to focus on one thing for very long, and when he says his name, it's muted but questioning.
Because he doesn't have to tease him, even if that might be what he's doing. It just has Larus idly running his hands up Dorian's back and sinking them into his hair where the urge to lightly pull grows until he can't resist it any longer. ]
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I can hear your thoughts churning. [It's an amused and friendly observation, as Dorian reaches for the lubricant and then uncaps it to spread a generous amount over his fingers.] Is this too slow?
[It might be, if he has enough time to think. Really, he just can't resist ribbing the other man a little for it.]
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I was thinking about our first time together. [ Which doesn't mean much beyond that because he immediately follows up with: ] I don't mind if it's slow.
[ He really doesn't. They'll get there eventually. ]
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In that case, forget I said anything. [It's not a moody comment, simply something offered neutrally to bring things back to where they should be right now.
Dorian leans in, one hand wrapping around the inside of a soft, and well-muscled thigh, the bluntness of his fingernails pressing in with interest as he moves closer. He breaks their shared gaze through the darkness to attend to what he's doing, the softness of his curls tumbling against Larus' forehead as he reaches between the other man's legs to spread some of the lubricant there, and then easily slips fingers inside him.
The feeling of it, chill and tight, is already something he wants to replace with his cock, but he'll take some time to stretch Larus amply so that this time when he takes him there's no immediate pain. His lips press along the line of Larus' jaw as he does, sometimes grazing teeth from a simmering need for him, until Dorian finally gets the sense that he's prepared the other man enough.
And now the reason for the headboard: Pulling everything away, Dorian braces himself on the sturdiness of it with one hand, his other coming to wrap around his cock. His gaze flicks up to meet Larus' briefly, interested in his expression, before it falls away again when the waiting becomes too much. He's not exactly gentle with the way he pushes the head of his cock against Larus, and then inside him in a steady slide, but at least this time there's no resistance to the motion. Dorian's breath leaves him in a rush as he seats himself, his free hand coming to wrap hard around Larus' hip as he adjusts to the first few moments of tightness, and the immediate pleasure that climbs up his spine at the feeling.]
no subject
Pain is nothing. Discomfort he can handle when it's what he wants.
And with that thought, he knows he wants him. He wants Dorian.
That slight roughness is welcome, a muted sound in the back of his throat at the unexpected delight of it, but he's quiet once more after that, focused so intensely on Dorian's pulse and the change in his breathing that it would have given him a full-body flush if he'd been able. Instead, his hand instinctively comes to rest over the one at his hip, squeezing with unspoken encouragement even as one of his knees presses against him. He gives a testing rock of his body, like there's a possibility to fuck him deeper when he's already fully inside him. ]
Dorian. [ It's short, quiet. Not exactly begging but not entirely sweet either. Like Larus swapped his name for the word move, easing up onto an elbow with his head tipped back slightly in search of somewhere warm to put his mouth. ]
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It's not something he's really conscious of, especially not now, but it's there.
Dorian grips harder at the top of the headboard as Larus nudges him with his knee, presses him for more in various little ways. It's nothing he can't already tell from the way he's being reacted to, but it is stirring. He doesn't need to be pushed any further.
The first drawing out of the other man is exquisite, immediately promising, but the feeling of driving back into Larus is even better. There's a pillow between them and the headboard, but from the hard way he's fucking into him now, it's good that the tall length of wood is there as a stopgap. In all of it Dorian retains a certain basic level of composure, but his breathing and heart rate give away an unfurling and unfettered desire.]
no subject
He skims his side, the small of his back. A touch of sweat, and Larus shivers for some unknown reason, keeping his eyes focused rather sharply on the man over him and the way his body curves rather elegantly. Beautiful, he thinks, not for the first time, almost compelled to whisper it to him in some fashion. The words even form on his lips but become smothered by the overwhelming need to kiss him anywhere he can reach instead, smearing his mouth against the upper part of Dorian's arm, his shoulder.
Simply, without cue, he's drowning, and Larus holds onto him. Tight. Tighter.
It's probably enough to hurt.
His fingers dig into Dorian's thigh to drag him closer, rocking into him with a sort of desperation that's on the edge of snapping completely. The pleasure isn't even something he registers despite how hard he is between them, not so much interested in that as he is everything else. The taste of him on his tongue, the feel of his cock each and every time it finds its way back inside him. The ricochet of his heart beating like a drum in Larus' head, keeping him enthralled and centered and there. It doesn't leave much room to remember the monstrous severity of reality, the damage he's done and the mess he's left behind. It doesn't leave anything but Dorian as the axis of his world, and he grasps at it, squeezing harder and harder until he fears they'll both break. ]