Ashton managed to pull Orym up high enough to kiss. It was softer, less frantic, and Orym sank into it.
When they finally drew apart, Ashton’s head fell back and they looked up at the ceiling. “Wow. I didn’t expect that.”
“Which part?”
“Pretty much any of it. Not that I wasn’t into it, because holy shit, Orym, that might have been the best sex I’ve ever had.”
Orym laughed softly. He couldn’t quite say the same. Physically, he was certain it had been, but there were complications beyond the physical. He missed his husband even as he snuggled closer to Ashton and relished the feel of their broad hand running across his back. That sort of ache and longing would never go away, he knew. But it had softened. He’d been guilty when he’d slept with the elf. There was no guilt in this bed.
He listened to Ashton’s heartbeat. However different he was with his skin and hair and repaired cracks, his heartbeat sounded the same as anyone else’s.
“What do you like to read?” Orym asked.
“What?” Ashton sounded incredulous.
“You said you liked to read. What do you like to read?”
“Mysteries, adventure, just about anything fictional. I’m not picky.”
“We should go shopping, find a bookshop.”
“Now?”
Orym’s laughter was weak. His eyes were getting heavy. “Maybe not now. We should probably clean up.”
“Yeah.”
“Definitely doing that right away.”
“Definitely.”
Orym didn’t move. After a moment, Ashton dragged the blanket over Orym’s back, and Orym tucked his head into the crook of Ashton’s neck. “I like this,” he whispered, which was somehow the hardest confession of the night.
“Me too,” Ashton said, equally hushed.
Orym didn’t know what that meant. They barely knew one another. He didn’t know who Ashton had been before they had met, any more than Ashton knew who he had been. Had Ashton loved and lost? Were there faces and voices that came at him in the middle of the night?
He pressed close, inhaling the interesting, earthy smell of Ashton’s sweat. Even the realization that Ashton could sweat filled him with a quiet wonder.
“Stay here tonight,” he whispered.
“Can’t exactly move.”
“Do you want to?”
“Nah. I’m sort of stuck to the pillow anyway.”
Orym lifted his head, smiling, feeling soft around the edges. He drew a breath to speak—
And then the door burst open and Dorian and Imogen tumbled in, Dorian’s blade drawn and Imogen’s eyes whited out with power. Fresh Cut Grass wheeled in after them, and Fearned strolled in last, with Laudna poking her head around the corner. Bertrand was the only one Orym didn’t see.
They all stared at one another for a long moment before Imogen blinked and her eyes were violet again. Her blush was impressive as she turned and walked out without a word, Laudna cackling and following.
“Well, this does not seem to be the deadly and injurious situation I was warned about,” Fresh Cut Grass said. “I’ll let you two be. Have fun! Don’t die! Enjoy whatever sex you want to have within physical reason! Find me if you need healing!” They turned around and wheeled back out, trailing a cheerful litany of advice.
Dorian was still rooted to the spot. “We thought you were dying,” he said.
“We did not think you were dying,” Fearne said. “I just wanted to see this, though I’m a little disappointed we only arrived after.”
“You’re a fucking perv, Fearne,” Ashton said.
“Yes, I am,” she said with her usual opaque cheer. “And now that I’ve seen it, I’m going to go get drunk.”
She trotted out, leaving Dorian still staring at them.
“I … I didn’t … Orym?” he asked.
“Please close the door on your way out,” Orym said, not unkindly. Fearne might be a menace, but Dorian’s heart was in the right place.
“Right, I will do that. I will just … you two have … you know what? I’ll go pay for that pillow.”
He turned and hurried out, even as Ashton shouted after him, “And the sheets!”
Orym started to laugh, pressing his face deep into the skin of Ashton’s neck. “I’m never going to hear the end of that.”
“Neither are they,” Ashton said, grinning.
“Oh, gods, we’re going to be rude neighbors.”
“The fucking rudest.”
Orym settled in and closed his eyes. They had just agreed, apparently, that this would happen again. That this wasn’t some one-off experience. He wasn’t certain he could call this a relationship, but it might be the foundation of one. There was a little ache to that thought, but it was good. It was a step forward.
Re: Fill: Made to Fit (Rated E) (6/6)
When they finally drew apart, Ashton’s head fell back and they looked up at the ceiling. “Wow. I didn’t expect that.”
“Which part?”
“Pretty much any of it. Not that I wasn’t into it, because holy shit, Orym, that might have been the best sex I’ve ever had.”
Orym laughed softly. He couldn’t quite say the same. Physically, he was certain it had been, but there were complications beyond the physical. He missed his husband even as he snuggled closer to Ashton and relished the feel of their broad hand running across his back. That sort of ache and longing would never go away, he knew. But it had softened. He’d been guilty when he’d slept with the elf. There was no guilt in this bed.
He listened to Ashton’s heartbeat. However different he was with his skin and hair and repaired cracks, his heartbeat sounded the same as anyone else’s.
“What do you like to read?” Orym asked.
“What?” Ashton sounded incredulous.
“You said you liked to read. What do you like to read?”
“Mysteries, adventure, just about anything fictional. I’m not picky.”
“We should go shopping, find a bookshop.”
“Now?”
Orym’s laughter was weak. His eyes were getting heavy. “Maybe not now. We should probably clean up.”
“Yeah.”
“Definitely doing that right away.”
“Definitely.”
Orym didn’t move. After a moment, Ashton dragged the blanket over Orym’s back, and Orym tucked his head into the crook of Ashton’s neck. “I like this,” he whispered, which was somehow the hardest confession of the night.
“Me too,” Ashton said, equally hushed.
Orym didn’t know what that meant. They barely knew one another. He didn’t know who Ashton had been before they had met, any more than Ashton knew who he had been. Had Ashton loved and lost? Were there faces and voices that came at him in the middle of the night?
He pressed close, inhaling the interesting, earthy smell of Ashton’s sweat. Even the realization that Ashton could sweat filled him with a quiet wonder.
“Stay here tonight,” he whispered.
“Can’t exactly move.”
“Do you want to?”
“Nah. I’m sort of stuck to the pillow anyway.”
Orym lifted his head, smiling, feeling soft around the edges. He drew a breath to speak—
And then the door burst open and Dorian and Imogen tumbled in, Dorian’s blade drawn and Imogen’s eyes whited out with power. Fresh Cut Grass wheeled in after them, and Fearned strolled in last, with Laudna poking her head around the corner. Bertrand was the only one Orym didn’t see.
They all stared at one another for a long moment before Imogen blinked and her eyes were violet again. Her blush was impressive as she turned and walked out without a word, Laudna cackling and following.
“Well, this does not seem to be the deadly and injurious situation I was warned about,” Fresh Cut Grass said. “I’ll let you two be. Have fun! Don’t die! Enjoy whatever sex you want to have within physical reason! Find me if you need healing!” They turned around and wheeled back out, trailing a cheerful litany of advice.
Dorian was still rooted to the spot. “We thought you were dying,” he said.
“We did not think you were dying,” Fearne said. “I just wanted to see this, though I’m a little disappointed we only arrived after.”
“You’re a fucking perv, Fearne,” Ashton said.
“Yes, I am,” she said with her usual opaque cheer. “And now that I’ve seen it, I’m going to go get drunk.”
She trotted out, leaving Dorian still staring at them.
“I … I didn’t … Orym?” he asked.
“Please close the door on your way out,” Orym said, not unkindly. Fearne might be a menace, but Dorian’s heart was in the right place.
“Right, I will do that. I will just … you two have … you know what? I’ll go pay for that pillow.”
He turned and hurried out, even as Ashton shouted after him, “And the sheets!”
Orym started to laugh, pressing his face deep into the skin of Ashton’s neck. “I’m never going to hear the end of that.”
“Neither are they,” Ashton said, grinning.
“Oh, gods, we’re going to be rude neighbors.”
“The fucking rudest.”
Orym settled in and closed his eyes. They had just agreed, apparently, that this would happen again. That this wasn’t some one-off experience. He wasn’t certain he could call this a relationship, but it might be the foundation of one. There was a little ache to that thought, but it was good. It was a step forward.