WHO Orym and Dorian Storm WHERE Their bedroom at the Bells Hells Spooky House WHEN Bedtime hours on April 6 WHAT The boys talk about their alternate selves, what the state of those worlds mean for their relationships there, and reaffirm their feelings in the here and now. STATUS Complete ART CREDITHere WARNINGS Smooches + FTB
It was late. The moon was high in the sky and it, along with the stars that shown brightly in the forest without the light pollution of the city, allowed for a gentle glow to sneak through the gap in the curtains that hung in the windows of the bedroom that Orym shared with Dorian. It allowed for just enough ambient light in the room that Orym's halfling eyes, eyes that were not at all accustomed to darkness, to navigate nimbly across the floor and up into the bed that Orym also shared with Dorian.
No matter how many times this nighttime routine played out, Orym had yet to grow tired of it. It had started so long ago, back when they were traveling together in Exandria and first started to save money by sharing a room at the inn, oftentimes with Fearne. That had been comfortable, but now it was downright domestic. He—or sometimes Dorian, instead—was turning out the light in their bedroom that they shared in the house that had become their (and their friends, of course) home, all simple but somehow also profound shows of a long and dedicated relationship between two men that loved one another.
When life could be predictable, as theirs so often was in Vallo or Exandria alike, the comfort of a routine that had grown around Dorian was almost overwhelming to Orym, in all the best ways.
As Orym crawled beneath the covers, pausing to stifle a yawn that also gave indication to the lateness of the hour, he considered that their lives had been exceptionally unpredictable as of late. That was hopefully done and over with now, but all three of the worlds that they and the other Outlanders had visited had lived different versions of one of them, the other bearing witness to it. There was its own brand of comfort in knowing that they would always make an effort to find the other, no matter the situation, but Orym had to hope that maybe they wouldn't need to go searching again, at least not for a while.
Tonight, they didn't have to search, though. Thank the gods.
Scooching across the bed, Orym let his head drop to the pillow as he cuddled in close to Dorian's side of the mattress. "Comfy?" he asked Dorian, wanting to check before he settled in too close and took too much liberty with cuddling.
There was something about their bed that Dorian would never get used to. The wide spiral he could take across the mattress. The feather light sheets in the summer. The cozy, plush duvet in the winter. But it was Orym at his side that tended to make the spot more welcoming, impossible to crawl out of when they were saddled side by side in the middle. He almost could doze off just like this—waiting, with the lights dimming as Orym moved around the room in a habitual domestic display of a late-night routine. Maybe Dorian should be more thoughtful that they had a routine at all. It spoke highly of their relationship, at least he thought so.
But when he thought of what he had here now, and what every Orym he encountered didn't, it made the sheets heavier, the duvet colder. Like something was taken away from them by just the thought. Dorian burrowed further into the bed while Orym finished up, hiding his face behind the incoming darkness of their room.
But as Orym climbed in, Dorian inched closer simultaneously, leeching off the warmth he so desperately needed. Spring was coming, but the nights still held a sharp chill that only Orym could provide shielding from. He hummed in agreement. "Yes, comfy," Dorian said, tucking his face immediately into Orym's neck. A normal spot, but one he also used often to hide his face when his brain couldn't shut up and his mouth was still trying to form more words.
"Do you think—" Dorian started, whispering into Orym's jaw, because lights out meant lowered voice, obviously. "Do you think you would be comfy if I wasn't here?"
It was hard to tell sometimes, when Orym stretched out his neck to the side to give Dorian plenty of space to press his face to the skin there as he saw fit, whether his boyfriend was just seeking out a measure of closeness and intimacy or if he was hiding—or, sometimes, a little of both. As Dorian spoke, his question registering in Orym's mind, he had a feeling that it was a bit of the last, this time around.
Orym lifted his arms, letting them circle around Dorian in a loose sort of embrace as one hand went to brush his fingers across a sharp cheekbone and the other's wrapped around the braid he had woven just a short while ago. It was both an offer of comfort, as he knew this question wasn't coming from nowhere and had likely lingered in Dorian's mind for a while if he was asking it at all in the safety of their dark bedroom, but also a bid for a little time as his mind mulled over the right answer to such a question. He often needed that when they had conversations such as this and he was grateful that Dorian knew him well enough to probably expect it.
There hadn't been many times since they had been reunited in Vallo that Orym had been without Dorian in his bed, even before they had given into their deeper feelings for one another. But he remembered the time between Dorian and Cyrus leaving in Jrusar until then and the rare occasion Vallo had done something to separate them, like when Orym had gone to visit an older Dorian in the future or when Dorian had been taken to that odd, upside-down sort of Vallo. He thought of how that felt and closed his eyes against the darkness and the sinking feeling in his chest.
"No," he replied honestly, turning his head to press his lips against Dorian's forehead. It was something between a deliberate kiss and a resting place. "I might be able to rest, but the bed feels empty and too big without you in it."
"What about—" Dorian started to say, but shifted to lean up onto his elbow. His mind felt too anxious, his body that had just been ready to sleep was now waking back up. He could make out Orym's silhouette and shadowed features, just enough to not feel as if Dorian's whole world was staring back at him. It was sometimes such a heavy weight, despite their ability to be simply honest with one another.
"What about if you never knew what it was like? What if you had years to just get used to it. That time before you and me were together? Would it it change your mind then? Would you—" Gosh it was a lot of questions, and he hadn't let Orym answer. He supposed he should have given more context for Orym, but most of the conversations of the serious matters tended to be a stream of consciousness until Dorian could sort it all into something Orym could follow. Sometimes he didn't want to say it. Sometimes he didn't think the details mattered.
But the details always mattered.
His hand started to run a long line down Orym's arm, a bit of grounding in the floaty impossible feeling that building in his chest. His whole mind was starting to get away from him. "It's just that in these other worlds, these other places that went, you were always alone. You and I were never—and I mean that it's obvious because I went and I didn't see other me. But yeah, it's just you and I just wonder if things wouldn't feel so... so sad later. I don't know, I don't want us to be apart, but I also don't want what I kept seeing."
Orym was quiet as Dorian spoke, giving him the time and patience that Dorian deserved as he worked through his thoughts. It was easy to do—it always was, as he wanted nothing more than to hear what Dorian had to say about everything. Right now, though, he knew that these were worries that were weighing on his boyfriend's shoulders. If he could alleviate them, Orym was going to do anything that he could to do so.
"I've thought about this too," Orym admitted, because he thought that maybe it would help Dorian to know that he wasn't alone in having his mind wander in that direction. "It's hard not to think about it, I think."
That didn't really answer Dorian's question, though. "I suppose I would get used to it, if I'd never gotten to have you like this in the first place." He reached out then, taking Dorian's hand. Pausing, he pressed gentle kisses to Dorian's fingertips. It was a reminder, not just for Dorian but for Orym himself, that he did get to have him, at least here. "But I think that I would always wonder and maybe that's where some of that sad comes from, always wondering what might have happened."
There was a weird relief that came over Dorian when Orym said he thought about it too. He suspected that the feelings Dorian had had for each of the Oryms he encountered had been similar for Orym. Now back with one another, and the world-hopping effectively done, Dorian only had time to think about the what if of it all.
He let out a soft sigh as Orym started to press gentle kisses to his fingertips. The strained line in his shoulders started to relax, even if the words didn't make him feel better. There was longing there, a wish for a happy ending that was impossible to predict. He felt guilty for getting it in this Vallo, when Orym in the others didn't. He was just as deserving, wasn't he? They both were.
"I kissed him," Dorian said. He wasn't as anxious or as worried as he was the last time he told Orym he 'cheated' with himself. But this time it was different, he knew it was. Their kiss wasn't just a fleeting goodbye, but more purposeful. Maybe he should have felt anxious. "I saw how sad he was, how sad you were, and I couldn't help it. He kissed me first but I kissed him back because I thought maybe I could help. Maybe I could push away the deeper sadness for a little bit."
Dorian huffed a little, leaning more in Orym's space, hoping that he wouldn't pull him away after this confession. "I hated, I hate seeing any version of you like that."
The admission wasn't much of a surprise to Orym, at least not this time. After their space adventure, Orym had been a bit shocked at the confession that Dorian had kissed his space counterpart, but not upset; it was just a little unexpected. Knowing that Dorian had seen another version of him, another Orym that hadn't been as lucky as himself, it was hard to be surprised that more affection had been exchanged.
As Dorian leaned in closer, Orym did the same. He turned onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow to give himself a little of height and closeness to Dorian. A small hand pressed to Dorian's cheek, over his jaw, settling gently against his throat as he smiled, small and maybe a bit sad—but wasn't that Orym in a nutshell?
"I can't tell you what it means to me to know just how much you love every version of me." The words were quiet, but no less honest.
"Orym," Dorian said, shifting every now and then to lean into Orym's touches. It felt nice to feel him in a more intimate way as they talked.
"Of course I do. How could I not?" Dorian asked like it was a simple question. And maybe it wasn't, maybe it was too heavy to not be just rhetorical, but he needed to say it out loud. Too much of their time together tended to be mixed with implications—that Orym knew he loved him, and Dorian knew that Orym loved him back—but sometimes that wasn't enough. Sometimes that wouldn't be enough, especially in the other worlds where there was no Dorian to say it. To never say it.
He made a small hum in the back of his throat, perfectly in pitched in the way only a bard could be at any hour of the day. "That is to say, that I would. No matter what. I'm a little in love with you everywhere we go. I'm still falling in love with you now. You surprise me, in every moment, in every world, and it feels so right to know that you are there, that it doesn't matter what, but we keep finding each other. And loving each other." Dorian was rambling now, but he felt bold and so loved he couldn't help but talk about it.
"I just wanted to make sure, I think, that you felt loved too. Maybe like you could feel it through worlds or something. There has to be a connection, right?" His eyes were wide in the dim light, hoping that Orym could provide some sort of confirmation that Dorian wasn't being a hopeless romantic.
Maybe Dorian was being a bit of a hopeless romantic, but Orym didn't think there was anything wrong with that. There were so many things that Orym appreciated and admired in Dorian and his ability to have hope, especially in Orym himself, was high among them. Besides, if Dorian was being a hopeless romantic in this instance, so was Orym.
It was easy to do that, too, when Dorian was saying so the sorts of things that made his cheeks blush.
"I think there is." He paused, considering his words and keeping his gaze on the dark shadows that the dim light cast across Dorian's handsome face. "You changed my life, sweetheart. Just by walking into it, you helped change the whole path I was on, even if neither of us probably realized it at the time. I think it's easy for me to say that you've done the same to any Orym you've happened across."
He paused for a moment, mouth tipping into a soft smile as his fingers brushed along Dorian's skin. "And you're a very good kisser. If there's one way to make sure I feel how much you love me between worlds, that's probably it."
Dorian let out a soft laugh, a stark difference to the very somber way he had started this conversation. He had never been called a good kisser before. But Dorian also didn't know what to say to argue it. Did he want to? He didn't really have leg to stand on because it's not like he could kiss himself to find out. He also was thinking an awful lot about his own mouth at the moment, and he decided that was not really the point.
"Okay, I believe you," Dorian said, as he returned to burying his face into the side of Orym's neck. He kissed him there as if to punctuate the whole point of what Orym was saying. Or at least give him more to work off of while forming his decision about best kisser. He pressed another to his jaw, the corner of his mouth.
"You changed my life too, you know." This was said as Dorian placed another kiss to Orym's cheek. Kissing everywhere but his lips because they were still talking. He'd get to it. Later. This was nice too. "Maybe I did for you in those other places, and maybe it will be for the better, but I don't know if I would have ever believed that before. Before you. And it goes both ways, I think. With the other me." Dorian liked to pretend that everything wasn't so rough around the edges with the other him. That Orym had softened him too.
Orym closed his eyes, letting out a soft hum that was one part considering and one part just basking in the attention that Dorian was giving to his favorite places to be kissed (aka anywhere, when Dorian was involved). His hand moved, finding purchase at the back of Dorian's neck as his fingers brushed against the soft hairs there that escaped the braid.
"It goes both ways," Orym agreed, resisting the urge to punctuate that thought with a kiss to Dorian's mouth; he had a feeling that if he started that, he wasn't going to be able to stop just yet and he had a few more things left to say. "I have to think that after I left him to come back to our Vallo and you, his version of me that he was meant to be reunited with showed up and they got to change each other's lives in their own way."
Turning his face, he nuzzled into Dorian's cheek and let out a soft breath. It sounded codependent, what he was describing, but Orym didn't think it was so unhealthy. He'd had a life before Dorian, just as he'd had a life with and without Will. He knew what it was to be happy and content with another man, then had lived a life where he'd learned how to function without him. Dorian had brought with him a light that had been missing; he'd already said it, but he truly had changed Orym's life, just when he needed it. He couldn't imagine that not happening to any version of himself—even the Orym that had showed up in Vallo that one time, still married to Will and not knowing Dorian. Maybe their relationship would look different with Will still in the picture, but Orym had to believe it was only a matter of time for them both.
"I just think that you're a constant for any Oryms out there. We're meant to find each other, no matter the world."
"Maybe I did," Dorian agreed, thinking about happy endings that they both deserved in any world. Even if they couldn't give it to one another at the time, Dorian could hope for it. Hoping was just as good, wanting it for someone else was simply manifesting. Wasn't that something FCG was always trying to get them to do? He supposed that he could give their cleric some credit when it came to maintaining positive attitudes in the darker corners of their lives..
He also probably shouldn't have been thinking about someone else while wrapped up with Orym in their bed, steadily drawing impossibly closer and inevitability more intimate. There was no room for anyone else in Dorian's mind when he was constantly playing a loop that was just Orym's name and Orym's body against his.
"That sounds a little like fate," Dorian said, when Orym talked about finding each other over and over again. Maybe it was, maybe Dorian should believe in it. Maybe he did, a little. They had talked about this before, but it had only been reinforced the more worlds they jumped through, the more places they went, the more Dorian let himself be loved, endlessly. How could they not be meant for one another, just because they were in other places, just because a world was different or more unkind?
Enough hiding, Dorian surged up in Orym's comforting grasp and kissed him soundly. His hair fell around them like a curtain, protecting them from the rest of Vallo. "I love you," Dorian said against his lips. Then added, "And this version of you is the best kisser."
The kiss itself might have knocked the breath right out of Orym, but there was something about their closeness, the way he felt so utterly surrounded by Dorian between his hair narrowing his vision (as though he would want to look at anything other than Dorian in this moment) and the larger man's body so warm and familiar, that left him simply dazed. He smiled against Dorian's mouth, a little love drunk.
He forced himself to focus; they had just been having an important conversation, no matter how deliciously distracting Dorian could be. "I love you too," Orym murmured, turning to angle himself in closer, drawn to Dorian and attempting to close the barely there space between them.
"And, if you don't mind," he continued, fingers grazing along Dorian's back, shoulders, arms, wherever he could reach, "I'd like to demonstrate my kissing talents, just so you can be sure." It was a statement, but also a question: Dorian was being distracting as all heck by simply existing, but Orym could and would rein it in, if there was more to talk about.
Dorian was smiling through the kiss now, more teeth than lips, which he knew would cause an issue with Orym's attempts at demonstration. His arms curled tightly around him, as if he could touch every part of Orym at once. He could certainly try.
"We wouldn't want me to be unsure," Dorian said, stealing another kiss, letting his hands roam, feeling both hot and tingly at the same time. If he could explain it to Orym, he would. But Dorian was shedding his title as Words Guy, and wanting to just feel the moment.
"Please, by all means, continue."