Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Dorian has been acting … different lately. Everyone assumed he'd partaken in some day drinking (uncharacteristic but understandable) the way his words had a soft slur to them, the darker blue flush to his cheeks, the strands of hair that would stick to a sweat-sheened forehead. After a few days, concerns arose that he might be sick, and needed rest.

For Dorian, it was another miserable time of the year. All drowsy and hot for at least two weeks, which got steadily worse until he was bedridden and squirming under the sheets, desperate for an antidote he knew nothing about. That's how it had… always been. His parents took very little care in explaining this annual illness that would strike their son. This had led him to assume it was a personal fault or something, a vulnerability in his immune system that refused to heal itself over time. And he was stuck with it, now, only a month or so into meeting his new friends, feeling like utter shit .

He'd barely stood his ground in a fight today, and was more than glad to hear the plan to return to Spire by Fire for an evening meal and a sleep. Dorian was just worried he'd lay down in bed, and soak through the sheets with sweat by morning and be too heavy-limbed to get up. 

It was better than this, stumbling his way through the streets. Nearly anything was.

Dorian had decided to find an apothecary in Jrusar, see if they had any tinctures for a strange recurring sickness; Ashton had returned to the Krook House for something-or-other, they'd been vague about it; the rest of the party were making their way to the tavern.

As he walks, he hugs his arms to his chest, hearing the shudder of his breath in his ears. There are so many people in the streets, yet not enough to conceal himself. Phantom eyes watch him, making his shivers ever colder, and it's too much – he swerves into the next small alley he can find, backing himself against a wall, and he breathes .

Fuck.

It's just a sickness, it shouldn't be this debilitating, not after experiencing it every year since he was a teenager. Dorian swallows thickly. Perhaps it's best to turn back, shut himself up in a room in Spire by Fire until it aches, and aches, and passes.

--

He's just about to push himself from the wall and make a sore journey back to the tavern when a lowly-lit figure appears at the entrance of the alleyway, arms crossed and head cocked.

"Thought I smelled a genasi." its voice hums, approaching.

Dorian is busy cursing his bad, terrible luck as the figure approaches him, now visible as another air genasi, tall with shaven hair, menacing.

Dorian's halfway through a, 'wait' , when their hand lands just beside his head, the other genasi leaning uncomfortably close. Dorian feels… warm. Hot. In a way that makes him ache, and it feels horrible with this stranger.

"All alone in springtime?" the figure croons, their voice heavy with something that makes Dorian's stomach turn, "posted up here, waiting for someone to come along and fuck you for a silver? Aww."

The sweat on Dorian's brow turns ice cold.

"W- what ," he squeaks, every inch of skin crawling , so uncomfortable, so hot, so stuck in himself.

"Begging for some fun. Oh, you want it so bad , I can smell it." they continue, voice so low it's almost a growl. 

Through the haze of anxiety, Dorian tries to collect the cantation for a spell that could make him disappear, make them disappear, please anything , as they duck their head and near Dorian's quivering throat —

" Oy !" he hears a voice, a familiar voice yell, only a few feet away from where he's cornered. 

Their heads turn to look at the source of the voice – a tall figure wielding a large hammer.

"Ashton," Dorian whispers like a prayer.

"Get the fuck off my friend, fucking creep!" Ashton says, voice hard and warning firm, as the other genasi imposing on Dorian pulls back.

"I found it first. Get your own breeding partner." they hiss. 

Ashton wastes no time turning their head to spit on the floor, raising their grip on their hammer.

"Do you want a dent in your facehole? Fuck off!" he snaps, and Dorian just catches a glimpse of his face, and they genuinely look really fucking angry.

The other air genasi straightens themself up, and Dorian can't stifle his audible gasp of relief at regaining his personal space.

"Fine. I can get better anyway." they say, stalking their way out of the alley. Ashton doesn't move for their exit, shoulder-checking them hard. He doesn't flinch. 

--

For a few seconds longer, Ashton stays posed there, head turned until he loses sight of the third genasi. Then, all at once, the imposing figure drops as they rush over to Dorian. Ashton steps in close to place a hand on his shoulder, but catches themself at the last second, backstepping to give him some space.

"Thank you. Um. Skies. That could've been…" Dorian fumbles, lips feeling numb. He squeezes his eyes shut against imaginary alternatives - without Ashton. "Nope." 

"Yeah. Shit. What the fuck , man. You don't just… do that!" Ashton seethes. Dorian takes a glance up at them (and, hells, he's tall), sees a chest that rises heavy with breaths, a subtle knit to his eyebrows, something distinctly… off, that he couldn't sensibly chalk down to anger.

"Alright. I, er… wait. Why are you. How did you get here? You were… at the Krook House." Dorian starts talking, because it's better to busy his thoughts with another rather than the experience he'd just had, better than letting his mind be clouded by that bloody fever again.

Ashton rubs their neck awkwardly.

"Look, I… didn't feel great that you were out by yourself. With the thing going on. Like, I can get myself hitched, so I'm in my head a bit better. A bit. But you, man, you look like you've got it bad ." they explain, and their sentence finishes with this look , dragging up and down Dorian's entirety. It is unexpected, and Dorian is far from considering himself desirable in this moment, but it's… somehow not unwelcome.

"I – I'm sorry, am I going crazy, or are people talking about. Sex?" he blurts, and if his face weren't already hot with his ailment, he'd feel the warmth rising now.

Aside from an amused eyebrow raise, Ashton looks unfazed.

"I mean… duh. 'Tis the season and all that." they say with a shrug.

"Season for what!?" Dorian cries, having to clamp a hand over his mouth, fearing his exasperation makes him too loud.

Ashton takes a few seconds before his eyes go wide, owlishly wide.

"Ohhhh. You don't knowww…" he says. Dorian has neither the energy nor the patience to formulate a verbal response, so simply presses his palm harder to his own mouth and makes a pointed look at the other genasi.

"Well, shit. Every day's a learning day, I guess. Hey. So. Y'know that feeling you get the start of every year, all hot and bothered and all that?" they begin. Dorian, lowering his hand to wrap his arms protectively about himself, nods slowly.

"That's 'cause you - you and me and all the other genasis - are in horny season." 

It makes sense.

It makes horrible, stupidly obvious sense. 

How it always hit him the same time of the year. How he always felt the heat underneath his skin, no matter how much cool air was around him. How there was always this great, unfathomable need that scratched at his brain with no simple answer.

"Oh." Dorian sighs.

"That must be … a lot, huh." Ashton says, an appreciated attempt at empathy.

"I… yes! That's. I'm. What ? I'm glad I know now, but, what?" he says. 

"Fuck knows. Guess it's cause we're like, nature people. Tied to the elements or whatever. The cycles of it all." he professes with a flippant grunt of a laugh.

It's Dorian's turn to give Ashton a slow once-over. They don't seem to be in distress, such as Dorian himself is, but there's… an intuition in him that recognises the same situation with Ashton. 

They are tall, as previously recognised. Broad, and not quiet about it, with their confident posture and clothing that reveals their arms, one tracked by delicate lines of gold. Ashton Greymoore is certainly easy on the eyes.

"Look, Dorian," he continues, breaking the silence that Dorian had let fall heavy, "I don't wanna beat around the bush. Riding out breeding season alone is… a gigantic sack of shit, I won't lie, I've been there. But I've also been with people who don't mind offering a hand. Makes it so much easier, and pretty damn enjoyable." 

Although already breathless, Dorian can barely feel the rush of air past his lips. His head might be fuzzy to the high heavens, but he can see an advance when it's standing a few feet away from him. 

"So, I'm saying. If you wanted, we can haul ass back to Spire, and have some fun little discoveries?" Ashton says, a small smile lighting their lips, which could almost fool Dorian into thinking it's something they enjoy thinking about.

"I, um-"

"There's no pressure to say yes. I'm not - not fuckin' like that. Some people don't do the whole sex thing, that’s chill, you can either have some solo time or someone round for emotional support. But I am an available option. And, I gotta say, pretty willing for it." he adds quickly, which gives Dorian some comfort; he's really gone from zero to a hundred in a horrible direction, and then to a hundred in a surprisingly pleasant direction.

He won't lie and say he hasn't had thoughts about Ashton's strength and its possibilities, or their voice low in his ear, or… or… 

"Yes," Dorian fumbles quickly, nodding his head so quickly he must look silly, " please ." 

He sees Ashton just light up like that, his deliberate sensibility replaced with this bright, delighted hunger . It could just be an effect of the weird… cycle… season whatever, but there is something far too appealing about Ashton being this excited.

"Yeah?" they press.

"I - I would be lying if I said I hadn't considered it once or twice. Considered, us." he says. He can feel the feverish feelings creeping back into the forefront of his mind again, yet this time mingled with anticipation, tangible and warm. 

"Damn. Nice." Ashton hums, taking a slow step towards Dorian, the approach enough to make him shiver so sweetly.

"Hey. D'you wanna try something cool? It's not, like, that involved, and it might help those shivers in the short-term." Ashton suggests, and it's Dorian's turn to move a little closer to them, feeling almost gravitated to the person, and their potentiality together. Nervousness keeps him from the last step that would bring them into physical contact - but a hand that places itself slowly, slow so that Dorian could react if need be, upon his back draws them close, chest against chest. This time, the proximity is very welcomed, and he can hear the way Ashton’s breath huffs that the feeling is mutual. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the eagerness, but something verbal would be the cherry on top.” Ashton says, their hand on his back starting to rub slow circles (which is surely meant to be calming, but Dorian can’t help finding it exciting).

“Whatever you have, I’ll hear it.” Dorian responds, attempting to drop his voice into a lower key. A corner of Ashton’s smile curls into an attractive smirk, as he tips his head to expose a side of their neck.

“You just tuck your head in there and take a little smell. Probably sounds weird for someone who’s not clued up about this stuff, but, like… feels real good. Intense, but good.” they say, tapping at their neck with a free hand. 

Dorian furrows his brow in mild confusion, but he won’t ignore the allure of being so close to such a vulnerable area of their body, and if it’ll help with the haze in his brain…

He seems to be at the perfect height to lean forward and let his face find purchase against the firmness of Ashton’s neck, all tense sinew underneath jade green skin. He can’t help but nuzzle in a little, encouraged by a pleased hum from Ashton. Gently, he inhales through his nose, and - 

The shudder travels down his body so precisely, it’s like he can feel it in every limb, lighting up his nerves as it goes. He can smell nothing but Ashton, the scent warm and honeyed and natural, and it pleases him so good. It leaves him feeling more grounded, less prone to the wanton shivers - he was right, it does help slightly.

Ashton’s beginning to form words of a question to enquire how it feels, but a smile forms on Dorian’s lips before they open to draw suction on skin, gently sucking. 

“Fuck, Dorian… yeah, leave a hickey, see where that gets you.” groans Ashton, and every syllable in that sentence drips with blind encouragement - how could Dorian deny that? So he sucks a little harder, a little longer, with the rewarding response of Ashton’s hips making a slow roll against him. Sure enough, as he draws back, a dark golden mark is beginning to form on their neck, a beautiful contrast against the green. 

He looks up at Ashton, and sees their expression, eyes lidded and mouth dropped open slightly. It’s a thrill.

“Let’s go back before we… ooh , fuck. Yeah. You good?” Ashton straightens up to make to leave before checking up on Dorian, hand sliding from his back to his hip.

“Funnily enough, haven’t been better.” he says with a soft chuckle, and he’s never heard a laugh sound so damn horny before. There’s a short pause before Dorian collects himself enough to pull away from Ashton, difficult and going against his every instinct though it is. They share a quick grin that communicates too much that Dorian might be overwhelmed with it if he thinks too long.

-

The journey back to Spire by Fire goes in a blur of exertion (Ashton has long damn legs and walks really damn fast), the two instinctually walking so close their shoulders constantly bump together. The worry rises again when he wonders what the rest of the group will think about their swift entry into the tavern and exit upstairs, but thoughts of what’s to come (ha) is nearly enough to knock all anxiety out of him. He doesn’t remember the last time he was this horny - probably never has been. Ashton’s happy to take care of explanations, if it can be called ‘taking care’ or ‘explaining’ - when they pass the table of their friends, all he says is, “genasi stuff, don’t bother us!”. Ishir is barely graced with the slamming of coin down on the table to pay for a room before they’re scrambling upstairs together. Honestly, Dorian’s a little enamoured with the whole thing, practically whisked away to have some fun time with the strangest, most beautiful genasi he’s ever seen.

When they’re up in a room and Ashton has shut the door behind them, a relative silence settles now they’re… alone. The two share a quiet, heavy look, and Dorian imagines they’re both fighting the urge to back up against the nearest wall and resume their earlier activity. But Ashton shakes their head and takes a deep breath, dropping their hammer and a pack slung over his shoulder. He instead makes for the meagre bed, takes a heavy seat, the frame creaking in response, and wow Dorian’s brain is finding everything hot right now.

“Okay, shit, here’s the bit where we gotta be sensible again.” the earth genasi says, sitting with their legs spread wide and elbows balanced on his thighs. He looks so confident. Dorian wordlessly nods, brain still catching up with the change in environment.

“Alright, alright, so. What I’m interested in is making you feel good, let you have some fun, ‘cause we’re gonna turn years of suffering into something great . But that relies on you being comfortable and happy, yeah? So here’s the big question - stuff that makes you uncomfortable? No judgement here.” Ashton says, leg bouncing absentmindedly as he speaks. Dorian is… so horny he can practically feel it in his fingers, and he’s got to think , but when he opens his mouth the words dry up.

“Sorry, I, um… could. Could you go first? I’m just. Ah.” he mumbles, eyes fixating on a spot on the bed just beside Ashton. He wishes he could be sexy, be confident, match the vibes that the other is practically exuding, but - fuck, he’s just so nervous.

“No sweat. I get that. For me, well… I love a rough and tumble, bite me if you like, marks are good, but serious pain's off the table. Again, not beating around the bush; what I’ve got between my legs’ a cunt, call it that or a cock and I’m yours. Just, don’t use feminine words for me, yeah?” 

The playing field feels a bit more levelled now that Ashton's voicing their own needs - so far, it felt like everything was focused on what Dorian himself wanted, what he needed - that takes the pressure off. But what puts the pressure on, in a much sexier fashion, is how Ashton has plainly described his genitals and that's pretty much all Dorian can think about now. From this position, all Dorian would have to do is get a little closer, drop to his knees, open his mouth and say please…

If only he were a little more confident and a little less overwhelmed by, like, everything.

"That's, um. That's good to know, thanks." Dorian says honestly, tugging at the hem of his own shirt. He watches that smirk grow on Ashton's face again, and it makes him crave unknown things so badly.

"You went pretty quiet for a second there. Thinking ‘bout something?" Ashton purrs, and Dorian watches like a hawk as they drop a hand to run it across the inside of their thigh. Dorian has never wished a piece of clothing into non-existence so hard before. 

“Mmoh dear. I need to… focus… think of things.” Dorian says, squeezing his eyes against the very tempting picture that the barbarian paints. He doesn’t know how he’s forming coherent thoughts at this point.

“I can wait.” Ashton hums, entertained but not unkind.

“Okay. Well, I- as far as, um, things between legs go, I have the same thing as you, so. That’s nice?,” Dorian manages, fumbling around words and thoughts attached he’s far too nervous and fuzzy to engage with, “I like… masculine words for myself too. Please don’t pull on my hair, or … ah. I’m just.” he pauses, presses the back of his hand against his forehead. “I can’t think. I just really want you.” he confesses, voice more breath than volume.

Ashton makes this delighted low noise that Dorian thinks he can feel in his chest, and extends a hand, motions towards themself. “Don’t worry, you’re doing good already. Come take a seat?” he offers, closing his legs to provide an enticing seat. Dorian stumbles so quickly to them, it’s like he’s magnetised. It is not a shy position, his legs spread wide across Ashton’s lap, and some more primal area of his brain wonders if Ashton can smell him. He swallows thickly. 

“Wanna see something cool?” Ashton asks, and last time he proposed something cool, it was more than enjoyable, and he’s soon to make a noise of assent. Ashton leans back (and Dorian fights the want to lean forward with them, chase the contact) to pull off their shirt. 

The rest of Ashton's torso just about matches the idea their arms give — strong, thick muscle with a healthy amount of flesh to his bones. His chest is underlined by twin golden scars, just like the ones that run from the side of their head, down their arm. Dorian's thoughts go quiet for a second, as he beholds the revealed skin.

"Wow." he breathes, itching to press his lips to Ashton's neck again, to track a trail of kisses down their torso, and lower.

"Yeah? I'm proud of it. Took a good while to be able to say that." Ashton says with a grin unabashed, leaning forward again to press their bare chest to Dorian's clothed one, reaching up to brush some of Dorian's hair behind his shoulder. 

"Pretty boy. You wanna take your shirt off, or keep it on? I don't mind. I only need access where it matters, y'know." Ashton asks, and Dorian has to collect the scattered mess of his thoughts at being called pretty boy before he can formulate an answer.

"No, it's fine, I— I'd like to show you." he responds, perhaps a little too eagerly, shuffling back on Ashton's lap to pull off his shirt. He was wearing the lightest clothing possible without going sheer, in an attempt to combat the feverish heat of his situation, which makes for an easy disrobing.

Once he drops his shirt to the floor beside them, Ashton's eyes take him in ever so slowly, ever so eagerly. Like Ashton, Dorian himself is flat-chested, the marks underneath looking more tattoos than scars, the dark blue visage of wispy stratus clouds. 

"Fuck, you're lovely." Ashton whispers, and Dorian expects neither such a sweet word in Ashton's vocabulary, nor the gentle awe in their voice.

" Ahh ." Dorian says, scrambling for something clever, something equally complimentary. When he voices the first thing that comes to mind, it's, "can I… kiss you?" 

That was unplanned and foolish, but the regrets ebb as soon as he sees the pleased look on Ashton's face. 

"By all means." they say, deliberately drawing their tongue across their lips, and Dorian leans in like he's entranced. 

He expects all force and aggression from Ashton, but the gentility of his lips is so unexpected and so welcome that Dorian already moans softly into the kiss. One of Ashton's rough hands curls around the back of his neck, the other falling to his chest to trace idle patterns across his heart. The more Dorian settles and becomes comfortable in the passion of kissing, the more Ashton rises to meet such energy, shedding the layers of softness they'd began with. So much that, when they part, the two are panting softly.

"Fuck. Wanna touch your dick so bad. D'you want that?" Ashton breathes, sounding all hot and heavy, and Dorian might as well be a fire genasi the way that just lights up his insides.

It feels like this heat he’s endured has been sedimenting within him for years upon end, until Ashton just happened to come along with a lit match and spark the flame. 

"Oh gods, yes. I need to - hold on-" Dorian scrambles off their lap, kicking off footwear, thinking to hell with modesty and pulls down his pants and underthings in one, Ashton now privy to his whole body. He doesn't quite have the time to consider how he feels so… comfortable. 

When he looks back to gauge their reaction, Ashton's nearly done divesting himself of the rest of his clothes, kicking off their trousers (notably, with nothing underneath). As soon as he catches Dorian looking, their legs swing open unashamedly. Their smirk is unbearably cocksure, and now Dorian can see they’re dripping wet, cunt flushed the same alluring red as the hickey he'd left on his neck. Dorian feels faint. 

“Any other day I’d, mm, love you on your knees right here, but. Right now’s about you.” Ashton muses, giving Dorian images to think on for the rest of his days as he finds his place back on Ashton’s lap, whose hand alights upon his stomach the second he sits down.

“Vocal as you can, yeah? Tell me what’s good and what’s not.” he reminds Dorian, inclining his head to press a messy kiss to the intimate spot beneath Dorian’s ear and just above his neck. Combined with the sensation and anticipation of Ashton’s hand drawing ever lower, he shivers pleasantly. He has to hold onto this unique moment in time, in the lap of someone more than eager to be the answer to every question, the resolve to his tensions. Ashton is still nosing fondly at his neck when their finger - just one, so delicate, but already invoking the sweetest intensity of pleasure - over his folds.

“Oh,” Dorian lets out involuntarily, mouth falling open. He’s already having to suppress the want to roll into Ashton’s touch, “oh, yes.” 

“Oh yeah?” Ashton mirrors, thick finger dipping tantalisingly close to Dorian’s entrance and gathering up an embarrassing volume of slick, drawing it upwards to trace over Dorian’s cock. And Dorian goes, ‘ oh!’ , hips twitching against the burst of pleasure the movement brings forth. 

“That feels so good. Why does that feel so good.” Dorian utters, feeling Ashton’s sharp grin pressed against his skin as their finger moves so fucking nicely against his cock, back and forth, practically gliding with the slick. It’s like the pleasure is amplified, so much sweeter and moreish than when he’d normally get himself enough. 

“Think about it, your body’s been in sex mode on and off for years without getting it, and now. Here you are. Boutta get it so fucking good. ” Ashton says, their voice dropping so low it almost finishes in a growl that sends Dorian’s head spinning.  He rolls his finger over Dorian’s cock a little firmer, twinned with another kiss just below Dorian’s jaw. If Dorian were processing things normally, he’d put more effort into quieting his noises, but a moan slips past his lips so easily. And he… he likes it. Feels good to have an outlet for the pressure building within him, especially one that Ashton could appreciate.

“Yeah. Listen to that. So hot .” Ashton whispers, with but the lightest scrap of their teeth against his neck. Dorian feels like he’s back to a perpetual tremble in his limbs, yet it is more than welcome this time. One digit is soon replaced by two, dipping into Dorian’s font of slick to provide more lubrication, this time rubbing more firmly over his cock, and it’s substantial enough for Dorian to rock his hips against. It feels like everything he could ever want, how his body claims the pleasure, like it’s trying to weld it into his very cells; and yet, something itches. Something is still not fulfilled - not filled .

“Could I, ah, mm hm -  your fingers … inside me?” he pleads quietly, and although his senses are dulled and he feels happily more receptive, it’s still difficult to get the words out, to ask for something so lewd. But, skies, he couldn’t imagine someone who would be better at fingering than Ashton. He feels his sex twitch with the want of it.

“Oh hell yeah,” Ashton says, so quickly, and it’s astounding how he can hear need in their voice, too, like he’s desperate to please Dorian, too. 

When the stimulation to his cock disappears, Dorian whines plaintively. Responding, Ashton draws their head back so they can look at Dorian properly - and Dorian’s at first embarrassed at the thought of however ruined he must look, but then all thoughts falter at the look of Ashton, hell, biting his lower lip and cheeks flushed red. That expression might be imprinted on Dorian’s brain forever.

“You want me to fuck you with my fingers, huh?” they say like a tease, and Dorian squirms, wishing he could communicate the way his every nerve sings for it.

"Please, please." he utters in response, drawing his arms over Ashton's broad shoulders, pressing the pads of his fingers into the skin near their shoulder blades. 

Ashton leans in, nosing their way into a quick, sloppy kiss. When he pulls back, he says, “might have you sit facing the other way. Wanna do that yourself, or how about a little help moving?”

Dorian only needs a split second to imagine Ashton’s strong hands manoeuvring him into whichever position he might wish - and another second to reply, “I would - greatly appreciate the help.” 

A low chuckle rolls through Ashton as he wipes their wet fingers on the bed before finding a firm grip on the meat of Dorian’s thighs, just below his ass. Dorian feels himself lifted off their lap like he weighs nothing, and can just think to swing his legs around to ease the manoeuvre. He’s tempted to chase fantasies of what Ashton’s strength is like sustained, holding him up against a wall, even entirely bearing his weight  - 

The movement sends him a bit dizzy, thoughts turning in circles, when he’d been sitting so happily placid in Ashton’s lap, focusing less on movement and more on the best jerking off of his life. However, he decides he can’t be too unhappy about it, as this position puts his back firmly against Ashton’s chest, a warm thing to ground himself against. Ashton’s left arm crosses over his chest, just underneath the scars, closing with a soft hold on his side. Dorian can’t help but shuffle further back against him, widening his legs further as they fall just outside of Ashton’s, keeping him deliciously spread open for easy access. 

Dorian brings a hand up to rest it on Ashton’s muscled forearm. He longs to trace the golden scars that line their skin, but it feels a far too intricate action, given the current situation. Speaking of current situations, Ashton’s free hand traces its way up Dorian’s inner thigh, fingers pressing into the skin as if he intends to imprint the path into his cerulean skin. Just as his hand nears his inner thigh, the plush meat of it, the touch is gone - and Dorian feels himself visibly deflate within Ashton’s grip.

“Ha. Don’t worry, won’t tease you that much.” Ashton reassures him, voice nearly quiet as a whisper near Dorian’s ear, “you’re just fun.”

Dorian wriggles in place, feeling the thrill of their words physically instead of giving attention to how it makes him feel, feel praised.

Ashton mirrors his ministrations on Dorian’s other thigh, this time moving his hand to press the their palm against Dorian’s cunt, the heel of his palm positioned just right that Dorian can grind against it. It feels so good it has his toes curling already, and he makes a noise like, ‘hn nn’, to which Ashton swears under their breath, says, “you sound so fucking good.”

“Feels so f - fucking good.” Dorian returns, letting his head drop back against the barbarian’s shoulder, letting his hips work rhythmically against Ashton’s hand as if they have a life of their own. He’s speaking nothing but truth, it feels incredible , as if he could spend an eternity in pleasure overseen by the other genasi. 

He’s barely able to settle into the motions, to warmly contemplate his first orgasm, when Ashton’s middle fingers dips near his hole (so wet , hell, it’s unbelievable), circles it suggestively. Dorian answers the unspoken question with a pointed rut of his hips. Another heated moment passes before Dorian realises he needs to find the words, something like - 

“Ashton, please. Please . Do it. Oh, skies.” he urges, feeling breathless with the want. He feels Ashton press their lips against the crown of his head, just as their middle finger slides all the way in Dorian. And he can safely say his reaction is not normal, as he cries out at an embarrassingly loud volume, jerking in Ashton’s lap, back arching a little curve.

And Ashton just chuckles , deep and appreciative, the noise reverberating within Dorian with their proximity. 

“Hits different, doesn’t it.” Ashton says, with an element of understanding, and that is something to consider some other time. Dorian nods numbly as Ashton curls their finger inside him, a perfectly suggestive angle against his sweet spot.

“Mm. M.” Dorian responds eloquently. When Ashton begins to move his finger, a slow press of it in and out, Dorian thinks he loses the ability to verbalise anything. Skies. His eyelids flutter as he eases further against Ashton, letting the satisfaction bleed through him. Its intensity is unusual but powerfully enjoyable, like quelling a long hunger with a hearty meal. He makes signs of encouragement in the form of an open-mouthed moan as Ashton picks up the pace, the slick pull and press of his finger. But, it’s already not enough , Dorian’s walls twitching around the slimness of a single digit.

“More? ‘Nother… ghh.” he attempts, leaning into the slur of his speech, how it matches up perfectly with the pleasure that dances through him, both easing him into softness and guiding him further into presentness, alertness. 

“I got you. Hey. It’s gonna feel so nice.” Ashton hums, their second finger sliding in almost effortlessly to join the first, Dorian gasping pleasantly as he’s spread just a little wider. The rhythm Ashton establishes now with his fingers is faster, carries more intention, trying to press the sensations into Dorian’s body rather than letting them bloom by themselves. And Dorian feels it, oh, he does , thinks he sings with it. It simply feels so right, here enveloped in Ashton, capable hands holding him and fingering him. This is a salve over a wound worth years, years he was oblivious to it all. And here is clarity, so sharp, so pleasant. 

As Dorian may have expected, Ashton’s stamina is something to be thankful for, the pace at which he fucks Dorian with his fingers only increasing, switching between an ingress and withdrawal with a heavy grind of fingertips against his sweet spot. Dorian can only recognise his grip on Ashton’s arm growing tighter, nails digging sweetly into skin, and he wants, he wants. The noises from Dorian’s mouth and his cunt only become louder, more lewd, low groans twinned with slick, squelching noises. Yet he can hardly bring himself to care - all he can think about is how wonderfully well Ashton is taking care of him, and a rapidly rising potentiality of coming.

Fuck. He needs to cum. And he feels like he could do it, here, just from this. He communicates the need for it with a wanton whine, pushing his hips back against Ashton’s fingers. It's at this point he realised how tense he is, everywhere, from clenching Ashton’s arm to the arch in his back to the curl of his toes. It might not feel good after a while, but right now, it feels so right, like a flannel tight during wringing. It's there, the tension, the stimulation, the feeling , he just needs - 

" Ashton , I’m gonna," he whimpers, so close to his peak he can feel it like light behind his eyelids, “‘m close-” 

Ashton’s arm around Dorian pulls him in that bit closer, and Dorian can just feel the heavy rise and fall of their chest. 

“Go on. Touch yourself. I gotcha." Ashton beckons, and Dorian has never responded to someone's words so fast, shoving a hand downwards. He barely gets two fingers settled over his cock, rubbing frantically in tandem with the thrust of Ashton's fingers against his walls, as he feels himself go off like a shot, the tension in his muscles now filled with bright pleasure as he comes, oh, fuck , he's coming .

It's like nothing he's ever felt before — all his current sensations now magnified threefold, nothing but the bliss radiating from his core, coursing through every inch in his body until he can feel the pleasure in the tips of his fingers. Dorian can distantly hear his own gratified wail, and something that sounds like a low moan from Ashton. 

For a minute, or maybe an eternity, he's suffused in nothing but pleasure. Like a reward, sweet and all-consuming.

When Dorian comes back to himself, all the tension has disappeared from him, and he's slumped bonelessly against Ashton. He lets out a soft, trembling sigh as Ashton's fingers withdraw from him, the hand returning after it's been wiped carelessly on the sheets to hold Dorian gently - surprisingly gently - around the stomach. The arm that was against Dorian's chest now lifts to attend to his hair, sweeping back long, black sheets of it that had fallen about Dorian's face.

"Fuck, you gave me a good workout. How's that feeling for you?" Ashton inquires, their hand now settling on the crown of Dorian's head, nails idly scratching his scalp. It's nice.

"Wow." is all Dorian can manage right now. The post-orgasm glow has left him with nothing but ease and serenity that he can feel physically, in his loose limbs and slow breaths.

"I know. I remember my first time - not something that's easy to forget. Damn, I'm almost jealous. You're, like, ragdolled on me." Ashton observes, and Dorian finds that he cannot give a single shit about how unravelled he looks. It's good, and he likes it.

"Is your hand, um. Okay? That was… impressive." Dorian fumbles, feeling the familiar flush to his cheeks, and has to chuckle softly at the silliness of asking, did you finger me too hard?

"Oh, yeah. Don't worry 'bout me. I've had practice." he replies, and there are a hundred questions Dorian could ask about the things they say, but that is definitely more for another time.

They stay like that for a while, perhaps a minute or so, Dorian finely attuned to how peaceful his slow breaths sound, how Ashton's breathing occasionally lines up with his. He's slightly reeling from the change from being put thoroughly through pleasurable paces to a slow, almost tender aftercare, but there are far worse things to experience.

“Hey.” Ashton speaks up, then, “not to interrupt your spacing out but I’m, uh, gonna be responsible and get you some water. You just lost a fuckton and that’s only the beginning.” 

Dorian can hear a smothered smirk in his words, and he makes a soft noise in reply, stretching out his limbs before unceremoniously sliding out of Ashton’s lap. He watches somewhat fondly as Ashton rises to cross the room, seeking out their pack they’d dropped upon arrival. Even arse-naked, the aforementioned body part right in Dorian’s view, he looks so confident, so self-assured. 

He takes a brief mental check-up, marvelling still at the stillness in his body, how the shivers and feverish symptoms have seemed to entirely subside. They’d felt as if they’d melded into his arousal while Ashton was taking care of his first orgasm, and had died with the subsiding of his climax. It is… relief beyond measure.

Dorian starts to hum softly to himself, the comforting vibration in his throat dying when Ashton sinks to his knees to rifle through their pack, and the light catches in just a way that accentuates the sheen of slick on their inner thighs. 

“Ashton.” Dorian calls with a pleasant shiver to his voice, and the other genasi turns to look back at him.

“Mmhm?”
“You… you deserve some. Attention too, right?” he says, trying not to let thoughts of Ashton in the throes of pleasure distract him from levelheadness too quickly. Ashton rises to his impressive full height again, this time holding a waterskin. 

“I mean. Sure, I guess, but I did get a helping hand from a friend earlier this morning, and you need ‘attention’ a lot more than I do right now, so. The standard rules of reciprocity don’t one-hundred percent apply in this situation.” Ashton says with a shrug as he returns to the bed, taking a heavy seat next to Dorian, “I won’t expire if I don’t get my rocks off tonight.” 

Dorian takes the waterskin that’s offered to him, takes it to his lips and finds himself thirstily gulping down the water that dribbles forth. Damn, he really did need rehydrating. Halfway through his intake, he realises what an alluring display this must be, drinking eagerly from the receptacle. So he plays a little into it, for it’s the least that Ashton deserves, letting his mouth release the spout with a suggestive popping sound. He levels a look at Ashton, who gives an interested laugh for his efforts.

“But I want to do something for you.” Dorian tells them as he hands the waterskin back to them. He’s about to get caught up in the pain of making a decision between his pleasure and Ashton’s, as the barbarian takes a swig of water, when something comes to mind. Something practically genius.

“Oh.” Dorian says.

“Oh?” Ashton echoes. 

“Yeah. I, er, I know what we could do. Erm.” Dorian begins, raising his hands to attempt to formulate his idea into gestures. Ashton caps the waterskin and tosses it onto a nearby surface before turning to Dorian with a particularly interested gleam in his eyes.

“If you… lie down, here. Maybe?” he tries, never having felt too comfortable ordering people around, least of all a stone-cut hammer wielder who could probably crack a nut with his bicep. But Ashton is amusedly receptive, reclining on the bed once Dorian stands to give them the space. 

He resituates himself on the bed, sitting up on his knees, looking from Ashton’s face to between their legs. They’ve got an eyebrow cocked watching Dorian puzzle over a position, anticipation evident - yet there’s something behind there, too, a genuine interest in how Dorian might make his own decisions. 

He can feel the effects of his heat returning, now he’s had the chance to recover from an undoubtedly mind-blowing orgasm. It feels far more pleasant in these circumstances, though, a pleasant tingle throughout him that inhibits his anxiety, leaves him with an easier cognitive path to getting off. Which, Dorian being Dorian, is greatly appreciated. He doesn’t quite know where he found the confidence to be looming over Ashton Greymoore like this. They’re - they’re terrifying. And . Suffocatingly attractive. 

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he moves further up the bed to straddle one of Ashton’s legs just over his hips, flicking his gaze up to check their reaction. He finds a delighted smirk that infers he knows just what Dorian’s plans are.

“Scissoring? That’s fun .” he confirms, spreading his legs wider for - for easier access. Skies, help Dorian. With a shivering exhale, he lowers himself down. He has to twist his hips a little to the side to get a good angle, but when he does, he’s rewarded by the sensation quite unlike any other of his cunt pressing against Ashton’s, nothing but heat and wetness. It is… unbelievably hot.

“Oh, fuck.” Dorian whispers, carnal awe rough in his throat.

Ashton makes a noise somewhere between a groan and that dark chuckle of theirs, hands coming up to settle on Dorian’s waist, gently guiding him into a better angle. 

“That’s my line.” he says teasingly, grinning up at Dorian, all teeth and all want. 

Dorian can’t quite muster any response, let alone a clever one, too busy initiating a slow roll of his hips; slow and experimental, worrying over each unsatisfying press forward until he does something right and their cocks slide together, near frictionless. Ashton tips their head back, lets out a low moan, joined by a sigh from Dorian. He had expected Ashton to be… not quiet in bed, after all. 

It isn’t the easiest thing Dorian has ever attempted, especially not with how excitedly he trembles and how Ashton enjoys being an active participant with guiding hands and rutting hips. But the reward is far, far greater than expended efforts, falling into a clumsy rhythm, gasping at every sweet contact they make. 

This position feels… intimate, almost, with such a direct way of exchanging pleasure - and how he can't help looking down at Ashton, enjoyment writ so clearly across their face, good eye sparkling with indulgence, with unhidden want, that makes Dorian clamour to give him everything he can offer and more. A bodily hunger. 

“You’re so - h ngh - so hot like this, Dorian.” Ashton purrs, the fingers that hold onto the air genasi’s hips pressing in a little deeper, tracking firm lines across his hipbones. Dorian whines softly to let out the pressure of more sensations, more stimulation. 

“You’re one t - to talk,” is his gasping reply. He’d never had quite the time to consider what a sight Ashton would be below him, and now it feels like something he could crave, the lusty high of seeing them like this. And Dorian wants, he wants more, wants to make Ashton come first so he can see what they look like, sound like. Wants to see him writhing in pleasure. With a heavy breath, he leans forward and plants his hands either side of Ashton’s shoulders, both changing the angle of their connection and bringing their faces closer. Dorian’s hair is just long enough for the ends to collect on the pillow in little white curlicues - one of Ashton’s hands leaves his hip to gather up the ombre curtains, sweep it over a shoulder. 

“Ngh.” Dorian vocalises in reply. Said hand cups his neck, guides him down for a kiss; this one is messy, but hot, spit-slick lips sliding together. Dorian can’t quite get a pleasurable angle to rut their cocks together, and pauses his attempts, instead fully indulging in the kiss. Ashton’s teeth nip at Dorian’s lower lip as he pulls away, sending an unexpected thrill down the back of Dorian’s neck. He’s about to adjust positions again when Ashton’s hands, one now on his shoulder, tugs and the world spins briefly. 

Dorian yelps as he’s rolled over and lands flat on his back, head hitting the pillow as he’s now looking up at a devilishly grinning Ashton. 

“Gotcha.” they say proudly. Dorian’s unsure whether it’s the physical act or the sheer strength behind it that knocked the air from him so thoroughly, but it’s not an important distinction to make when his partner is busy straightening up, sitting up on his heels. He takes Dorian’s thighs, pulls him a little closer and settles one leg just against his hip - Dorian’s now inclined ever so slightly, hips lifted up off the bed, and Ashton carries that weight effortlessly. Almost involuntarily, Dorian curls his leg to press his calf against the small of Ashton’s back. Rather than Dorian’s control of pressing down into Ashton, Ashton’s now pulling Dorian up against him, and the easy control in that sends him shuddering. 

Ashton, unashamed, glances between their legs where their cunts touch, flushed green against blue. They drive their hips down hard, less with rhythm and more with disorganised pleasure-seeking, and sometimes the stimulation doesn’t quite hit and sometimes it’s so fucking right it has the pair gasping and shivering.

Dorian, at some point, remembers to complain with a weak, “I was doing something-!” helplessly trying to move his hips as Ashton grinds against his cunt.

“Yeah? Y’know what you could do - lie back ‘n look nice. And watch me cum. Fuck , so close.” he returns, and the thought of it makes Dorian whine high in his throat, wriggling helplessly against Ashton’s grip.

Momentarily, the barbarian slows right down - an impressive feat of restraint - , looks Dorian in the eyes as they say, “you good? Not too much for you?”

Hardly a second passes before Dorian nods vehemently. There’s nothing more he could want in this moment than being held half-aloft by Ashton, fucking against him like there’s no tomorrow.

“Yeah. There ya fuckin’ go.” he says like it’s praise, blowing a quick kiss at Dorian before resuming the rough press of them together. Heat pools in Dorian’s body, sloshes about with every synchronised movement. 

It’s not unexpected that Ashton’s reaching orgasm before Dorian is - with Dorian already having one previously - and Dorian thanks the skies it worked out that way. He sees the tells in their body, the shortening breath, the stuttering of their hips. 

Dorian whispers, “ please ”, like he’s never wanted a thing in his life other than seeing Ashton come. 

“Fuck,” Ashton says, characteristically, “ fuck , Dorian, m’gonna - y- yeah -” 

Dorian bites down on his own lower lip, watches with desperate intent, reaching forward to settle a hand on Ashton’s thigh, squeezing encouragingly.

They lock eyes for barely a second, Ashton’s eyes wide and brows knitted high as he pulls Dorian flush to him, no longer moving his hips but grinding down hard - and they hunch over with a long groan that sounds of the sweetest release. It brings Dorian dangerously close just to see Ashton coming, shivering in the ecstasy of his peak, but it takes some aching restraint to hold off, just so he can see this beguiling display to its end. 

Ashton’s noises soon tail off into pleasantly exhausted sighs, and the orgasm bleeds slowly from them. He expects to see them move from their position, but Ashton stays situated, merely lifts his head to look over at Dorian. And hell, that look in his eye, tired but determined. After only a few seconds of stillness, Ashton starts to roll their hips again, slow and deliberate. Dorian tries to formulate a question, but it only comes out as a weak “wh-hnn n ?” as he’s promptly reminded that he was but a minute away from coming himself.

“C’mon - nn, hah. Come for me. You’ve got this.” Ashton breathes, and Dorian nods vehemently. It’s Ashton’s intensity that gets him, almost pushes him closer to his peak, that they just came but are still working their cocks together, relentlessly chasing Dorian’s pleasure, regardless of how overstimulated they might be. It’s Ashton’s turn to lean closer, lowering himself on one arm and taking Dorian gently by the chin with the other. He feels almost frantic under Ashton’s intense focus, needing more of it, more to push him over the edge. He can feel it brewing in him, the white-hot potentiality, making him whine again and again.

“Ashton,” he chants, “Ashton, Ashton.” 

Helpless and loving every second of it, he tips his head upwards into Ashton’s hold on his chin, bucks back into the slow, heavy roll of Ashton’s hips - and he feels something slide just right against his cock, and he can tell it’s over before it’s begun. A rising cry forms on his lips, a mix of Ashton’s name and wordless euphoria, pressing himself hard against the bed as he comes a second time. 

It takes him, appropriately, by storm, all heat and power that supersedes all other feelings. Maddeningly even better than the first time, even stronger. He thinks he might shake apart, there and then, but then it begins to subside, the clarity of reality returning to him. And the clarity of Ashton, still watching him from above. Dorian spends a second in silence, breathing heavy, and weakly reaches a hand out.

Ashton finally lets himself fall from his sitting, flopping down to lie just beside Dorian. The narrowness of the bed has them pressed close together, which Dorian more than appreciates, comfortable tiredness leaving him… cuddly. Something tells him that, even though he's feeling tired , he'll rebound quicker than he expects. Ashton slings a casual arm over Dorian's side, pulls him in a little closer.

"That was… kind of crazy, huh?" he hums, wrapping his hands around Ashton's idle arm and using that to cuddle in further. He realises his fingers are touching cracked, golden scars and he glances worriedly up at Ashton, but sees nothing but contentment and satiation writ upon their face.

"Best kinda crazy," Ashton replies enthusiastically, nudging his cheek against the crown of Dorian's head, "were you good back then? I did switch things up a bit."

" Yes . Ah. I don’t think I quite have the words right now, but… I was very good. Excellent.” Dorian says, somehow finding it in himself to be sheepish, despite everything that has just transpired.

Ashton chuckles gladly, pulling Dorian closer again . 

The warmth gained from bodily contact is the most calming thing Dorian's ever experienced, and it's slightly odd, but still feels so right . 

"Fucking hell , that was good. I feel good. All tingly - you know the feeling." Ashton sighs - and indeed, Dorian does. The after-effects aren't quite as strong, as cathartic as they were after his first orgasm, but they're far from insignificant. He briefly considers just staying pressed close to Ashton until the two drift off to sleep; but that's far too intimate (skies, as if they aren't already!), and a part of his brain is already starting to contemplate sex again. It scratches an itch in himself he hardly knew existed. He's practically gone from zero to one hundred in one afternoon, and wouldn't be surprised if he's tired himself out and can't bare to think of another naked body without inspiring lethargy. … Equally unsurprised if he thinks about climbing Ashton like a tree more than once a day.

"Hey." Dorian speaks up, hearing his voice sounding soft and easy, "can I. Touch you?" 

Ashton seems slightly surprised by the request, but not negatively so. 

"Where d'you wanna put your hands, then?" Ashton inquires, minutely pulling back so he can look Dorian in the eyes. Dorian instantly misses the contact, but it's oddly sweet to see Ashton looking so relaxed, with the soft smile that usually accompanies an afterglow.

"Is it embarrassing if I say everywhere?" Dorian answers, with yet another question, glancing away from Ashton for a second. Considering Ashton's been two fingers deep in him and have shared contact in the most intimate of places, he feels like he hasn't acknowledged enough of Ashton's body past being plain horny for it.

"Eh. I'd rib you in any other situation, but, go ahead." Ashton says, gesturing to themself with a lazy smile.

Dorian props himself up on an elbow to get a better view of Ashton, the strange crystal-like reflections of their skin, the amethyst crystallisation along their arms and trailing from navel to… below. The mysterious golden scars that run down his arms. 

And Dorian touches, so gently. Places his hand on Ashton's upper chest, trails lightly across their collarbones, then laying his hand flat to feel the rise and fall of his breaths. 

He can vaguely feel Ashton's gaze on him, watching him as he explores – downwards, placing such delicate touches on the scars underneath their pecs. Pressing silent empathy there. And down over their stomach, where he can feel strong muscles under a soft belly. Feeling only a little cheeky, tracing down their happy trail, feeling the bumps and nicks of the purple crystallisation - and back up again, to Ashton's responding shaky exhale. Dorian makes a noise halfway between a hum and a small laugh.

He continues to commit Ashton’s upper body to memory, as if to reassure himself of their presence, this existence, that this isn't a fever dream and he isn't still wrapped up in too-thick sheets in his own room at home. He hears Ashton’s sigh, and the gentle sound of it is enough to assure Dorian that everything is real.

As he's tracing idle patterns into Ashton's skin, perhaps unaware of how he loses himself in the action, Ashton speaks up.

"You're touching me like you play some of your instruments. All gentle like." they say quietly. Dorian's hand stills, lifting just off the surface of their skin.

"Does that bother you?" he asks, genuinely, worrying he may have overstepped a boundary that had been left unspoken.

The question is not dignified with a response from Ashton, merely another quiet sigh, a funny smile.

Sensing he's struck a nerve - or something along those lines - Dorian allows himself a second to wonder, before changing tact.

"Perhaps you'd enjoy another kind of touch." he suggests, turning a suggestive smile to Ashton. He puts his palm flat on Ashton's belly, slides it slowly southward, further inspired by the interested hum from the barbarian. As his hand runs over the tiny crystals that form their pubic hair, Ashton's legs shift wider, inviting him in. 

For some reason, a flush of his cheeks still catches him as he glides his fingers down the seam of Ashton’s sex. And, they must catch it, suggestively raising an eyebrow.

"Still flustered?" he teases, and Dorian huffs, moving his hand from their cunt to squeeze their thigh in mock rebuttal.

"No. I have no idea why you would think that." Dorian says sarcastically, yet a little sheepish. It’s just… absolutely insane that he even gets to do this - furthermore, that Ashton wants him to. 

When he gets back on task, running two fingers over Ashton’s dick where it’s still peeking out from under the hood - swollen with arousal - Dorian allows himself a little envy and a lot of wonder over how big it is, probably nearing half an inch. 

“How… it’s so big.” Dorian marvels, just catching himself licking his lips after speaking. Ashton reclines, seeming to bask in the attention. 

“What is?” they ask with faux innocence, but when Dorian looks up at him, there’s a characteristic grin plastered on his face.
Well, Dorian’s gotten this far without saying anything explicit - he’s been letting Ashton handle that field - but it seems that streak is at its end.

“Your - a hem - your dick, Ashton.” he announces, decidedly not looking at the other, and finds it… oddly fun to say?

“ Oh , yeah, that. Funny what a little magic can do for your size. And, indirectly, confidence.” Ashton muses proudly, reaching down to pull back the hood of his cunt, making his cock display more prominently. And there’s no ignoring it - Dorian’s mouth is watering, and if he doesn’t ask for it, he might wither away here and now. 

“Can I… oohh boy , can I. May I, use my mouth on you?" Dorian asks, voice almost shivering with the want of it.

Ashton makes a pleased noise, momentarily biting their lower lip. He cups a hand behind Dorian's head - not guiding or pushing, but he can feel the exciting possibility of it. 

"Be my absolute fucking guest, you fantastic thing." Ashton says, and that is more than all the encouragement he needs.

Dorian hoists himself back up onto his knees, shuffles to lie between Ashton's legs, taking the place as reverently as he might sit upon a throne. Ducking his head to lick a long, soft stripe from their entrance up to their cock, he revels in the long shiver and soft moan Ashton offers in response. He tastes… so good, sweet and a little earthy. 

Dorian lets out a gentle, appreciative moan as he closes his lips around Ashton's dick, as tentatively as he can. He can feel how their muscles tense in response, their hand coming to wind through Dorian's long hair - no force, simply holding. 

At some point, his eyes had fallen shut, and he opens them for a second to look up at Ashton through his eyelashes, and, ever so delicately, sucks.

"Fuuck… unh. That's good ." Ashton breathes as Dorian shuts his eyes again, slides his hands up their thighs to gently hold the meat of them. 

As he works his mouth against them, hearing a low resounding litany of sighs and moans, his breath falls still in his lungs. Clearing his mind of the extremities so he can concentrate better, focus on the soft, wet sounds his mouth produces.

In any other situation, he’d be able to last much longer like this, hearing Ashton’s sharp groans, feeling the twitch of their cunt against his mouth and chin - but he’s already aching again, feeling fresh slick beginning to paint the crux of his thighs. So Dorian sneaks a hand down to rub gently at his own cock. Ashton must notice, because he makes this noise low in his throat like he’s so pleased with it, which only serves to speed up Dorian’s hand. 

He feels like he could easily spend hours here, no gasps of air needed, only the earthy scent of Ashton clouding his mind so satisfyingly. So when Ashton’s hold on his hair tightens, gives him a guiding tug, there’s a whine on Dorian’s lips as he pulls away from their dick.

“You okay?” he asks, having to put in the effort to produce the words, more difficult when he’d rather be doing something else with his mouth. When Dorian lets himself breathe again, it comes in soft pants.

Ashton hisses softly through his teeth, possibly from the loss of stimulation, but he’s looking down at Dorian like they want to award him something.

“As much as I wanna let you keep sucking me off - and fuck, I do - I’m thinking ‘bout the main event.” they elaborate as Dorian rises up onto his knees again, starts tending to his long hair to try and smooth it into a semblance of normalcy. 

“Main event?” Dorian echoes, eyebrows raising, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. He just wants more of Ashton, in any form, receiving or giving - in this moment, it is such an easy desire.

“Mhm,” Ashton places a hand on Dorian’s upper back, encourages him closer so their faces are only inches apart, “me fucking you so good you forget you spent a second ever unsatisfied.” 

Dorian’s breath hitches at that, their words all at once conjuring - or perhaps, reminding him of - an emptiness that rests just beneath his stomach. And if Ashton could - could they?

“Do you-?” he begins, but the smirk growing on their face is more than answer enough.

“Might have a little something in my pack, yeah.”

“And you… always carry that around with you?” 

Ashton barks a laugh, pats Dorian’s shoulder in an oddly (yet comfortingly) affectionate manner.

“Nah. Just when it’s season. Though, sometimes I entertain the thought of just wearing one round my hips for a day. Just ‘cause it’d be hot.” they muse nonchalantly, like that isn't a concept that'll live in Dorian's brain now forever . Ashton likes to wear their pants low, low enough he might be able to see the straps of the harness just above the hem—

He sits, a little lost in thought, as Ashton makes his way back to their pack at the opposite end of the room. With their back turned to him, Dorian can’t quite make out the exact shape of the strap they’ve so kindly provided, but it’s enough to kindle a dull throb of arousal in Dorian’s belly. And this - this is what they’ve been working up to, the crescendo of a music piece. And it’s going to be loud, that much he can guess. 

When Ashton turns around in an elaborate movement, clearly one to show off, Dorian is… well, he’s certainly looking .

It’s not a small cock Ashton’s got, thick and faintly defined to look similar to a real dick, a couple shades lighter than their own gemlike skin. The black harness cradles their hips just so, not entirely unlike some of the belts he’s seen on their outfit. Ashton grins confidently and fists his new cock a couple times, letting out a soft, pleased noise as if they could feel it. Dorian thinks he might go cross-eyed staring at that thing. 

“How’s the view?” Ashton inquires with a tone like he knows he's the hottest thing Dorian's ever seen. 

"Tempting." he considers, pulling his eyes up to look at Ashton's face in about the most challenging feat he's ever attempted. Once Ashton gets a little closer, he goes, "catch!" and throws something Dorian's way.

The thing nearly falls out of his hands, but neatly rolls into his cupped clutches — a half-empty vial of viscous liquid. Ashton really does come prepared. And, also, comes in general.

"Fancy lubin' up, Storm?" Ashton offers as Dorian uncorks the bottle, smells it for no other good reason than an alternative to hungrily staring down Ashton's strap.

"That's the most unsexy way to talk about a very sexy thing, honestly." Dorian sniffs, though he's already pooling some of the cloudy liquid onto his palm. 

"I can talk sexy." they retort, just as Dorian rubs his hands together to spread the slick together, one hand reaching out to tentatively wrap around the shaft. It's rubbery, with some give, and the texture isn't dissatisfying - but its refined nature makes him miss the rough, warm feeling of Ashton's skin. 

He attempts to cover the length of the cock with slow strokes and twists of his wrist - trying to be thorough and sensible with it. But the way Ashton's gently rocking forth into his grip, and how their hand lifts to cup the back of his head, fingers threading through hair… he feels so very far from sensible. Wants to make Ashton feel so good , even though he's aware they derive no sensation from the toy.

Dorian attempts to quell these needs by leaning forward to wrap his lips around the very head of his cock, letting it rest gently against the tip of his tongue. The noise Ashton makes is low in their throat, and it warms Dorian to his very core.

Compared to having his mouth on Ashton's actual dick earlier, the taste of the strap is bland and underwhelming - but when he breathes in through his nose, he catches the heady scent of their arousal, and it's easily enough to make up for it.

It's around this time that Dorian realises his other hand is empty, and so is his hole. As far as wetness goes, his body has amply taken care of that, but some extra stretching couldn't hurt, not when he's getting increasingly eager to have Ashton inside him as soon as possible. So he snakes his empty hand downwards, running a finger over his cock to test his sensitivity (and, fuck, he's not oversensitive yet, he can take more) and down to his entrance. 

The press of a finger inside himself is practically frictionless, and his walls clench expectantly around its presence. He's unsure how patient he can be now, all this thoughts funnelling into how ready he is for Ashton, how good it'll feel, how it feels like the most perfect thing in the world- 

"Fucking look at you," Ashton breathes, hand falling from the back of Dorian's head to rub gently at the nape of his neck - and he shudders delightfully, finger curling inside himself, "gonna be thinking about this image for a while."

The admittance makes Dorian feel warm and good in his chest, knowing he's painting a pretty enough picture to warrant a lasting memory. As coyly as he can manage, he pops off the head of Ashton's strap, licks his lips.

"I have had that exact same thought at least four times already." he announces, looking up at Ashton through dark lashes. Which doesn't last for long, as they drop to their knees to be at a similar height to Dorian. Their mismatched eyes are wide and wild with every intention harboured in them, and Dorian leans a little, only to bring himself closer to that feeling.

"Mind if I finger you a bit more? You're probably good to go, but… hey, it can’t hurt." Ashton asks, glancing from Dorian’s face to between his spread legs, where he still has a hand tucked between. Dorian makes a little oh noise, pulling his hand free from his cunt in a movement slightly too hasty, that it makes a soft wet noise. 

" Please do ." Dorian breathlessly invites him, leaning back further and spreading his legs wider. 

He is painfully lacking a sense of time, and can't tell how long it's been since Ashton had their fingers in him earlier, but he aches for it as if it'd been weeks. They lean in close to press a kiss to Dorian’s jawline, a hand settling on his stomach and beginning its descent to replace Dorian’s hand; teasingly rubbing over his dick, to the twitching response of his thighs. Somehow, it feels twice as good when Ashton’s finger slides into him, a second pressed in soon after. Dorian instinctively presses his hips forward, sighing softly, as Ashton starts kissing down his neck. 

“Please don’t make me wait too long,” Dorian gasps as Ashton widens their fingers inside him in a thorough scissoring motion, “I - mmn - want you...”

There’s the barest scrape of Ashton’s teeth against his neck before he can feel a grin forming there.
“I know. Don’t you worry. You’ve got no idea how damn ready I am for this.” they respond, fingers working a little faster (and, oh, could Dorian get addicted to this).

With his dry hand, he grips Ashton’s right shoulder, squeezes his fingers against the firm muscle. It’s hard to believe that, after being worked through so thoroughly, all he can think about is more. Harder.  

Just as Dorian’s feeling desperate enough to drop a hand to rub at his cock, Ashton withdraws his fingers - and Dorian keens quietly like it starves him.

“Ashton-” he starts, plaintively.

“I got you,” they say quickly as they stand up again, take a glance down at their strap to make sure it’s sufficiently wet, “how d’you wanna do this? Positions-wise?”

Dorian stalls for a second, as he’d been to busy to think about getting fucked as soon as possible to consider how he’d be getting fucked.

“Er. What’s your favourite position?” he asks instead, avoiding the pause that thinking would cause him.

Ashton hums.

“Mmm… Doggy style's always a classic.” they consider. 

It’s like a command, the way Dorian spares no seconds in shifting further onto the bed, turning onto his stomach. Perhaps he should’ve thought of how revealing it is, as he raises up onto his knees and elbows, ass up in the air. But whichever way he’d agree to present himself, it’s one step closer to having Ashton fucking him properly. And if he’s giving a good show, all the better for his companion.

He’s almost shivering with anticipation as Ashton clambers up onto the bed, which creaks slightly under their weight. There’s a brief pause until Ashton’s hand, wet - probably with more lube - slicks over Dorian’s cunt, teasingly massages it in like he couldn’t be any wetter. A rivulet of it drips over his cock, and he groans gently.

“Ashton, please.” he tries, looking over his shoulder to get a glance at him. Cock in hand, they’re halfway through lining up, lower lip caught between teeth. He looks wonderfully as excited as Dorian feels.

“Yeah. You want this?” Ashton prompts as Dorian feels the press of the tip against his hole - he tenses, mouth dropping open - and it slides slowly, deliberately, over his entrance. Dorian groans in mild frustration.

“More than anything,” he insists, pushing back against the next painfully anticlimactic slide of the shaft against him. And then Ashton pulls his hips back, one hand curling around one side of Dorian’s waist and the other spreading his cunt wider with a thumb to the side - and then, and then -

There’s just the gentlest press of the tip into his hole, just an inch, and Ashton stops.

“Feel like I could slide into you in one go. So fucking loose.” Ashton breathes, and the thought of being so full so soon, so suddenly, is far too appealing.

“Then do it.” he urges, unable to keep the pleading edge from his voice. There’s a pause, and Dorian wonders if Ashton won’t follow through, perhaps wants to be gentle with him to start with. It’s a sweet thought, and he’s almost lost in it when he feels the shift of Ashton’s hips as he - fuck, fuck - slides into Dorian up to the hilt in one smooth motion. And Dorian is prepared neither for the sudden fullness, nor how it makes him feel; it’s powerful, hitting him like a strong high, like a sweet taste. This… this is what he’d been wanting all along.

Dorian makes a keening noise that sounds - hells, he doesn’t even know how it sounds, he’s too focused on the feeling of fullness bleeding through him. Slowly, like a chilled body warming from the frost, and palpable. It feels warm and good right up to his throat.

“Oh, Ashton .” he groans, head dropping low. Ashton hums in an almost soothing key, pulls Dorian a little closer against him so their hips are truly flush. 

“Yeeaah. How’s that feel?” they ask, smoothing their hands up the plane of Dorian’s back, and, even their touch feels like nothing but pure pleasure, the palms of their hands warm and a little rough and just perfect against his skin. Instinctively, he rises up into the touch, and even a minute shift sends gentle waves of sensations through him.

“H– heaven. Sexy heaven." he groans in response. Ashton laughs warmly at that, gives a gentle circling of his hips - barely pulling back, just the gentlest movement that has Dorian's walls tightening around the strap. 

"Tell me when you want me moving, 'kay?" Ashton says, hands reversing their previous path and sliding down Dorian's back, settling at his narrow waist, grasping it gently - like a promise. Dorian gets the idea he's about to have his brains fucked out (wouldn't expect anything less from the barbarian), and needs it like air. Which, as an air genasi, is pretty badly.

He says, "I wanted it five seconds ago," with as much cheekiness in his voice for someone who's horny, desperate and slap-bang in the middle of breeding season. 

Ashton's pleased little hum is the last thing he hears before they draw their hips back, slow but confident, and pushes right back in and Dorian has known nothing like this.

Blissfully they do not stop, these sweet thrusts in and out that get him used to the feeling, the feeling that some part of him has been touched, claimed even. A part of him he wasn't even aware existed, but the thing sings with every confident push of Ashton's hips, every little tighten of their hands at his waist.

He ached for this, and he aches for it now, but here, it feels so good. So good .

Because it feels like the easiest, most natural thing to do, he moans long and low, lets Ashton hear his pleasure. There's an uttered "fuck yeah " in response, and his pace quickens a little - Dorian trembles.

"Oh, skies," he sighs, voice pitched high and needy, "oh, skies, this is incredible." 

He can almost envisage Ashton's grin, can't help but imagine how his muscles would flex as he pulls Dorian's hips back against his next thrust.

"S'nice, huh? First time always gets you good." Ashton says, squeezing Dorian's waist, stilling for a second with a rough grind against him before pulling back again.

It's at this point Dorian drops from his hands to his elbows so he can press a fist against his mouth - he's getting louder, and fast, and he can't control it.

"Fuck, Dorian, you look so fucking pretty ." Ashton breathes, and Dorian's pleasure flares up like flames at the words, intensifying in eager response. He - he likes it, more than he'd care to admit.

"Harder, please." is all Dorian can say in reply, his conscious thoughts slowly losing themselves to the mantra of more more, harder, fuck, so good, more .

And Ashton complies without question, leaning forward to drive their cock into Dorian, and the slight roughness of it hits so fucking good. 

Their raw strength is starting to show as they continue to fuck him just that little harder, enough that he can hear the sounds of skin against skin. They’re making noise, and there isn’t anything that Dorian doesn’t find extremely hot about the situation - it’s all so perfect it could be addictive. 

“You take cock so well - hah - can’t believe you haven’t gotten laid‘n the season before.” Ashton gasps, and Dorian can just hear the edge of effort in their voice, the sound of someone who’s doing some proper fucking. 

They’re the filthiest words that Dorian’s ever witnesses, let alone only heard - he feels like he could revel in their dirty talk until he can barely think around it, but that would be an opportunity sorely wasted.

Under any other circumstances, he’d probably be embarrassed to the ninth circle of hell, but he pulls the hand away from his mouth, determined to entertain Ashton somewhat.

“And you fff-fuck so well, feels like you - ha aa - you’re an expert.” he tries, and it doesn't have the same filthy ring as Ashton when they speak - their mannerisms do lend themselves to dirty talk, after all - but they respond in this low, rolling noise that's halfway to a growl. And that feels nearly as good as the way they're fucking him (which is damn near perfect). 

It's the sensations, the pleasure, that confuses him somewhat - although the confusion barely sits at the back of his mind, giving leeway to a dozen other far more positive emotions. He can hardly tell whether he's seconds or an hour away from coming, unaware if he can again after the two orgasms he'd had before. It's the tension, he can't tell if it's wound tight like a coil, or loose and easy, just beginning to gather. There is no denying that it is strong , headily present, building at his cunt and flourishing through his body until the tips of his fingers are vessels for euphoric feeling. 

Some small part of it is… soothing, too. The feeling of Ashton's hands tight on his waist, the sound of his breath, heavy and deep — Ashton is here , fucking him, holding him, sating him. It's something of an unfamiliar feeling - and then it strikes him. All those years, that he'd been sitting on his ass through breeding season pained and wasting away, the burning loneliness he could never fully grasp. Why it felt so much like needing someone to attend to his needs, his sleepless nights, the places on his body that turned hot from sweat - his brow, the nape of his neck. He'd needed someone, and here, and here. Here was Ashton.

Very tender thoughts to be having when he's getting his guts rearranged.

Dorian works a hand underneath his body, reaching down with gently shaking fingers to pass them over his cock. It has him gasp, loud, trembling - he barely believed he could feel anything more, but the pleasure intensifies , a flower in rapid bloom. It takes some effort to let his hand dip a little lower, skim across where he and Ashton are connected ‐ the soaked surface of their strap, pistoning in and out of him, stretching him so sweetly. 

"You like that?" asks Ashton, having noticed, fucking hard against Dorian, enough to rock him forwards. 

Dorian's attempt at an affirmation results in more of a high whine as he rubs over his cock, which is just this side of oversensitive to feel blindingly good.

"Oh, fuck, Ashton." he groans - it's around this time that his body decides that coming is a viable option, and hopefully, an inevitable one.

"Lemme help you with that?" they offer, slowing their thrusts to slide a hand lower, circling Dorian’s waist, fingertips teasing just across his abdomen.

"Ple – ease," he says, letting his hand fall back to the sheets, gripping them in some attempt to gain stability.

He's just about to complain about Ashton not picking up the pace again and fucking him like he needs, when he feels them shifting behind him - bending over and down, until their chest is pressed  firm to Dorian's back. 

Dorian always thought a good experience and an overwhelming experience were mutually exclusive; but here, with Ashton huffing breaths against his neck, their skin hot against his back, they twin together so wonderfully. It's little more than instinct that has him pushing back against the solid weight of Ashton, seeking out where they've planted their hands to wrap one of his own tight around their wrist. 

"Fuck." Dorian hisses . With the new position, there’s less allowance to thrust but more to grind, these slow swivels of Ashton’s hips like he’s trying to tease the orgasm out of Dorian. When he feels Ashton’s fingers pressing against his cock, rubbing over the slick, swollen thing with little pretence, he whines hard and lifts himself back against Ashton, needing them, more of them, pressing into their heat and everything they have to give.

“I want to cum,” he whines, feeling so succinctly how it builds, how it allures, how it beckons his focus. It all feels so much better with Ashton inside him, flesh or not. Moving or not. Just… keeping him full and good and so fucking close.

“Bet I could talk you to the edge.” Ashton pants as Dorian twitches and gasps underneath them, as they move their fingers a little faster over his dripping cock. Dorian wonders if Ashton’s already learned the tells of his closeness.

“Talk you to it and over. Dorian, fuck , I love having you under me like this. Feel so good.” he continues, and Dorian in his deliriousness nods blindly.

He replies, “hnn nnng. ”

He tries, almost involuntarily, to move his hips back against Ashton’s cock, down against their hand, in some rhythm to put in the effort, to find some control. He’s so close. It feels so good, that winding feeling, tighter. 

Tighter.

“Gods, like you were meant for it. You're, f-fuck, so good for me." they say, and their words play into the gathering of his climax so easily it's probably something he should consider he's into . He presses back against Ashton with the stuttering of his breath, each hitch anticipating the breaking point. Dorian couldn't imagine how it might feel, when the current sensations are beyond anything he could've imagined, the rosy heat in his veins, its radiating bliss.

"G– good?" Dorian whispers, the word barely there - he can hardly concentrate on forming the sounds. He latches onto it, the word's meaning, because it drives him closer just as much as Ashton's fingers jerking his cock. There's nothing but being good, feeling good. It's so much, yet so simple. 

"You like that? Yeah. Good boy." Ashton presses, and that's — that's all he fucking needs, it's–

He cries, wails as he comes, thrice thrilled, still astounded by how powerfully it takes him. Dorian shakes against Ashton's form, curling up involuntarily against the pleasure, tightening hard around their strap. He can feel the sweet twist of his expression, the euphoric 'o' of his mouth, the knit of his eyebrows. When his brain searches for anything, thoughts, worries past this room, past this coupling, there is nothing and it is perfect. Dorian feels far too good for far too long and he's gone , lost to the wonder of sex. Lost to the feeling that he finally understands himself, and is finally understood. 

He drifts.

Quietly.

Like the dawn that arrives after a week of sickness when the ailment ebbs, bringing health and comfort. There are few times he's felt more comfortable, more serene. That may be down to a mindblowing orgasm or two sending him halfway to thoughtlessness.

… Ashton.

Skies above and earth below, Ashton.

"Mmhn?" Dorian tries.

He focuses, and there's still their warmth and their solidity pressed against his back. Different, though - he's lying down behind him, legs faintly entangled, and - ah. Still inside him. Damn, now it aches, but it's dull and somewhat pleasant. 

"Take your time." Ashton soothes him, spoken so quietly, patting his shoulder. 

Dorian takes a deep breath and revels in how he feels like he's glowing. Like he's so pleasantly tired, catharsis leaving him anew, ready to sleep for a week's weight in nights.

"I don'wanna get up." he mumbles, and finds Ashton’s hand somewhere close in the flex of his fingers. Almost reactively, he moves to clasp it, threading his fingers through theirs. There's a delayed reaction, and some part of Dorian's slowed brain begins to awaken to curse himself - but then Ashton's fingers close around his, and it feels nice.

"Who says? Just take a breather. Looked like that was intense." Ashton says with the quietest chuckle, squeezing Dorian's hand. A smile fits Dorian's mouth far too easily. Intense - an understatement, either.

He spends some small time pondering orgasms, and how he's managed to underestimate them. And how he may have to take a polite break after three insanely good ones in fairly quick succession. And then he thinks, oh .

" Oh , Ashton you didn' get to…" he says, shifting in his place, fighting the urge to lay very still and bask in the comfort, the residual pleasure of still being full

"Hey. No big deal. Tonight's about you, yeah?" Ashton responds rather quickly, but Dorian feels more than selfish to feel that good without a returning favour.

"No, no, nope. Gimme… um. Lemme help you. You deserve it." Dorian urges, finding some strength in himself to pull himself forwards. The slide off Ashton's cock is unintentionally slow, provoking the ache of overstimulation - not to mention the noise , slick and pressured.

"Fuck." Ashton says, simply, groaning as they pull away from Dorian, roll onto their back. Sleepily, Dorian turns to face them as they fiddle with the straps of their harnesses, loosening them with all the dexterity they can muster. 

He's ready and waiting as soon as Ashton kicks the thing off, leaves it somewhere on the floor hopefully to be cleaned at the earliest convenience. Regardless, Ashton turns to press close to Dorian, nudge their nose against his suggestively.

Dorian, unfortunately, lacks the pretence that comes with a clearer mind, but Ashton doesn't seem to mind when his hand quickly seeks out their sex. Ashton is about as wet as a woodland brook, so soft and inviting as he dips two fingers just over their entrance, slips back up to their cock, engorged and slippery. He feels Ashton's instant responding twitch, the gasp on his lips, and surmises that he's more than happy with this.

While it lacks the heat and insistence of their earlier sex, there's something lovely about getting Ashton off without the pressure, the intensity (although there's no doubting how much he enjoyed that). 

Among the sounds of Ashton's groans and heavy breaths, Dorian finds his request - "can we kiss?" - and Ashton's answer in their lips, on his. 

They kiss slow and easy, and Ashton pulls back intermittently to moan, rolling their hips against the ministrations of Dorian's slim fingers. 

He tries to match the way Ashton touched him before, guessing it's the way Ashton enjoyed it most on themself — passes of his fingertips side to side, circular rubbing motions on either side of their swollen cock. Dorian could even consider getting good at this.

"Oh shit, Dorian, close ." Ashton warns soon, and Dorian is thankful for the little clarity he has, how it allows him to appreciate the shiver in the barbarian's voice and body. He picks up the speed of his hand, presses a little closer to Ashton. Kisses him messily on the cheek.

Dorian can feel the feverish twitching of their cunt against his fingers - and this is still so hot , and he leans in to steal one more kiss from Ashton, drinking in the shivering breaths.

"Come for me, Ashton?" Dorian barely whispers, barely pulling back, feeling the careful press of Ashton's forehead against his as they fall apart.

As if Dorian wasn't already lucky enough, he gets to see Ashton coming again, gets to work them through it with presses and swipes of his fingers. Ashton’s noises are loud and unabashed, and skies help him, there’s a hazy smile on their face. The clenching and unclenching of muscles, the curling of toes. Dorian watches and works him through his orgasm, his hand eventually weakly batted away by Ashton's as they relax.

He expects Ashton to stare up at the ceiling once their eyes open, but they roll over to face Dorian again, search his face with wide, happy eyes that flit across his features. There’s a strange calm about the moment that Dorian wishes he could hold onto forever.

"Cheers," Ashton says eventually, "you're a gentleman." 

Despite the light tone of unseriousness, Dorian still smiles a little sheepishly. His fingers have gotten a little tired, so he rests the hand over Ashton's hip, uses that as an excuse to pull them closer. 

There's a soft stretch of silence whereupon Dorian's just shy of looking Ashton in the eye, unable to summarise in mind or word just how epiphanic this experience has been. 

"I… I don't know what to say, Ashton, thank y—"

"Nope. Let's not do the feelings thing yet. Just be good here." Ashton interrupts him, slings an arm lazily over Dorian's shoulder. Their breathing together is still heavy and exerted, and every so often, he imagines their breaths sync up.

"I'm fuckin' wiped. And I mean that in the best possible way." Ashton says after a short while, to a gentle laugh from Dorian.

"Yes. I have… never had a better workout." Dorian replies with a small, tired grin. Though he means it as a joke, it's not shy from being true.

He vaguely considers asking if napping is appropriate; just five minutes, then he'll wake up coherent enough to drink some water,  tidy up, put some nightclothes on. In whichever order they're logically supposed to be in.

But sleep finds him easier than it ever had before.

-

Dorian expects things to get awkward.

It's not un realistic. Given his disposition, and how thoroughly it was altered during their… encounter, it'd be far from illogical to expect some wry twist in their sudden relationship.

But it just happens that it isn't. 

Well. Apart from the morning after when Orym and Fresh Cut Grass come bustling in, expecting either one of the genasi to secretly be unsavoury and have caused the other grievous harm the previous night; but all they find is a spooning pair, naked and still a little sweaty.

Hard to live down, but somehow, not awkward.

There's a lightness in Dorian's step that, even as an air genasi, he hasn't experienced before — sees the same in Ashton, their easy smile, even past morning aches and daily strife. And knows, secretly, their discoveries, their tryst . Dorian is quite utterly bewildered how he managed something of that caliber. How lucky he is. 

At some point, he'll gather up the confidence to ask for an encore, when it can be a little more give-and-take rather than Dorian being in a state that urgently needed taken care of. 

He wonders if Ashton would enjoy not being the one to take charge, call the shots. Does more than just think about it, sometimes.

But, he is woefully back to his usual self, nervous around Ashton's sharp attractiveness. Couldn't proposition them just like that.

One day, though. He knows it when they lock eyes sometimes, exchange some hidden knowledge of their night together – it's the first, but by no means needs to be the last.

Perhaps he counts the days until their next battle, when his life is risked again. Counts the weeks until they may have to leave Jrusar, brave the wilds. Counts the months until life takes yet another wild turn.

But he's already excited for next spring.