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The little glade Fearne led them to was almost serene, an astonishing impossibility for any part of the tangled woods surrounding Ligament Manor. Dorian spent a moment in awestruck silence, wondering if they’d teleported to an entirely different part of the Feywild
Sure, there were still strange noises from deeper in the surrounding forest, but there were no terrifying creatures immediately visible, and none of the hedges looked like they’d ever been human. The knoll was slightly elevated, so the ground was dry, and while the glowing balls of light that hovered around were collecting moths, they looked normal. As normal as a moth could look.
The ground was laid with tapestries and cushions, and the veritable feast spread out across them reminded Dorian of the old fairy stories he was told as a child: never give the Fey your true name, never eat of their food, or you will belong to them.
Well. Dorian had already told them his true name, and he had already accepted a truly delicious cocktail from Nana Morri, and he already belonged to Fearne to the depths of his heart. In for a copper, in for a platinum. Dorian let Fearne lead him to the massive sofa-bed-thing in the center of the clearing. It was made of branches like it had grown straight out of the ground, and appointed with a cushy purple mattress that looked like it could hold all eight of them if they tried.
Braius and Ashton moved aside for Fearne to sit between them, Ashton’s arm immediately going around her shoulders. Dorian considered joining Imogen and Laudna and poking through one of the picnic baskets, but Fearne tugged him right onto her lap and Ashton swung their legs over his to keep him there, so he supposed he was staying put.
For a while, Dorian just relaxed and listened as Ashton gave Braius a play-by-play of a crawler race the rest of the Hells had participated in while visiting Bassuras. The whole thing sounded horribly dangerous to Dorian. Their voice caught in their throat when they described Fresh Cut Grass’ antics, but Braius’ interest in their fallen companion’s stint as the front wheel of a crawler seemed to soothe them a little. Ashton liked any excuse to talk about Grass like they might roll around the corner at any moment.
When Dorian asked if Chetney might hand them one of the platters, he said, “get it yourself, I ain’t nobody’s delivery boy!” and continued examining the trees surrounding the clearing.
Dorian, now thanks to Fearne, Ashton, and Braius, who was resting his hand on Dorian’s shoulder, was still immobilized. Chetney knew this, and continued to refuse to deliver him snacks.
Luckily, Orym brought over one of the trays of fruits and nuts and strange little confections, complete with four colorful cocktail glasses in the center. He handed it to Dorian directly, and Dorian held it on his lap, letting the others steal drinks and bits of snacks.
“You playin’ fancy waiter or getting over here?” Ashton asked.
“Give me a sec.” Orym padded back over to the center, pouring another drink from the glass carafe that sat in the middle of the setup. The amount of liquid in it didn’t seem to have lowered, despite Imogen and Laudna having just poured drinks of their own.
Orym handed his drink to Dorian for him to hold steady while he hopped up onto the back of the couch-bed, hooking his toes around one of the whorls of dark wood and reaching for it again. Dorian had to reach over Fearne’s shoulder to pass it off, and he decided to remain there, leaning against her, picking at the snack tray she was now holding with his free hand.
“We can move further back, if you need room,” Braius suggested, but Imogen just shook her head and floated herself up next to Orym, while Laudna made her spidery way over, tucked into the space between Braius’ back and Imogen’s knees.
“Chetters!” Imogen called, “quit looking at the wood and get your ass over here!”
Chetney told her to quit whining, as he stuffed a branch in the bag of holding and scuttled over to join the rest of the group. As soon as he got close enough, Ashton reached out with their glowing lava hand and grabbed him up by the strap of his overalls, hauling him onto the mattress, to great complaint.
"If I wanted your hands on me, I'd fuckin' ask for your hands on me! Sheesh! Keep your lava off the merchandise!"
“See, I knew we’d all fit!” Fearne cheerfully ignored Chetney's complaints.
Chetney, now recovered, shoved an arm between her and Ashton to grab a slice of unnaturally purple apple off the plate Dorian held, which he’d been no help in providing. “That’s only because I’m travel-sized right now.”
“Oof, yeah, don’t think we’d fit wolf-Chet on here,” Orym said.
“Not everybody can handle the beast,” Chetney said, through loud crunching.
“Don’t chew right next to my ear, old man,” Ashton said, elbowing Chetney away.
“Somebody hand me a snack?” Orym asked.
Braius reached over Dorian to grab Orym some food, and Dorian began to understand that R&R in the Feywild was going to be just as chaotic as everything else Bells Hells regularly did.
He was continually proven correct. Imogen started levitating desserts over to her and Laudna, Ashton beaned Chet in the face with a fig, and after only a few minutes, Dorian had absolutely no recollection of whose drink belonged to whom. This, apparently, did not matter, because when Dorian asked where his cocktail had gone, Ashton said, “here,” and handed him the one they’d just been drinking.
Dorian had missed this terribly, he realized.
As things had gotten more and more tense with Opal, the Crown Keepers had begun to drift apart, no longer spending the comfortable, easy time together that they had before. Dorian missed them as dearly as he’d missed the Hells when they’d been apart, but that ache was softened just a little as he sat amidst the soft conversation and happy chatter of his friends.
He was also beginning to become slightly drunk, which he realized when Fearne lay back, and Dorian just sort of tipped over with her, much to his surprise and everyone else’s general delight. Dorian sat back up, flushed a furious violet, but the damage was done.
“Should’ve guessed you’re a lightweight,” Ashton said, barely looking up from packing his pipe.
“Oh, don’t be mean to Dorian,” Laudna waved them off. “Not everyone has our tolerance.”
“Not everyone comes by it honest, even then,” Orym remarked. “I don’t think you can say you have a high tolerance if it’s just that you’re dead, and everything moves through your bloodstream slower.”
“I can say it,” she replied, “it’s at least a half-truth.”
Orym replied that a half truth was also a half lie, which started a mild debate on the ethics of partial falsehoods, paused only when Imogen telekinetically levitated more snacks over to the table and everyone became distracted.
Dorian, however, was distracted by something else entirely, and Ashton, unfortunately, was not paying attention to Laudna putting chocolates directly in Fearne’s mouth.
“You want some?” they asked, gesturing with the pipe.
“Oh, no, I. I don’t even know what I’d see.”
“Not for that. Just to smoke, tonight.” Ashton put it between his teeth and Dorian was forced to confront how soft and full his lips were.
“Oh,” Dorian said again. He was fidgeting. “If I’m a lightweight with booze, I’d hate to know how I am with, um. What’s in there?” It didn’t smell like tobacco.
“Plants,” said Ashton, unhelpfully. They twisted, leaning back toward Orym, and said, “give me a light?”
Without looking, Orym snapped his fingers and held a little flame between them. Ashton lifted the pipe to it and started the ‘plants’ burning. It didn’t smell awful, not like the skunk-weed stink of certain bars and taverns, but it was still rather pungent. Definitely not the sort of standard-issue pipe tobacco you got in general stores in Tal'dorei.
Dorian watched Ashton inhale, hold his breath a moment, and make an obscene ‘o’ with his lips as he blew it out, his face tilted to the side so he didn't blow smoke on anyone.
“You sure you don’t want?” they asked.
Dorian wanted. Maybe not just the smoke.
“If you’re sharing, hand it here,” Orym said.
“Yeah, of course, here.” Ashton passed the pipe over, and Dorian watched Orym put his mouth right where Ashton’s had been.
Suddenly, Dorian wondered what would have happened if the bottle stopped spinning on Orym. Or Ashton. Or Braius. Or one of the girls. Why were all of his friends hot?
Orym blew smoke rings, and Ashton called him a showoff with great fondness in their voice.
“Is there a way to try, um. A little bit?” Dorian wondered, not just because he wanted to put his mouth where Orym had. Not at all because of that, no.
Ashton's eyebrows went up, that little look of surprise they always had when Dorian was interested in doing something that fell beyond the purview of what Ashton thought a man like him was supposed to want to be involved in. "Mmhm. I can do that."
"Ash," Orym said, poking them with his feet. "C'mon, man."
"You wanna do the honors?" Ashton lifted the pipe again, making the little runes engraved around the edge sparkle in the orange light.
"No, no. Go for it, you maniac," Orym said.
Dorian was still trying to parse this conversation, presuming he was hearing something incorrectly over the sound of Laudna cackling about something Chetney said, when Ashton leaned in closer to him and said, "don't freeze up, blue boy. Just breathe in."
"Okay?"
Three things happened in very quick succession, and Dorian didn't understand how they were connected until he, per Ashton's instructions, breathed in. One: Ashton took a long pull off the pipe, and didn't immediately exhale it. Two: Ashton put a hand on the back of Dorian's neck and pulled him in close. Three: Ashton put his mouth over Dorian's mouth.
The inhale was more of a gasp, really. Ashton was kissing him? No. Ashton was breathing smoke into his mouth, and Dorian had just drawn it into his lungs.
Dorian breathed in a lungful, and then held it. He could feel warm smoke cycling through his lungs, his lips tingling from the almost-kiss.
When Ashton pulled back, they looked at Dorian curiously for a long moment, and then patted him hard between his shoulders. "You gotta exhale, baby blue."
He didn't have to, technically, but he did, only the thinnest trail of smoke issuing from between his lips. He'd probably absorbed most of it.
"I did not think about how that was gonna work for an air genasi," Orym admitted.
Dorian coughed on the end of his exhale. "Wait, so you did know he was gonna do that to me!?"
Orym looked barely apologetic, but awkward enough that it was clear that yes, he had known Ashton was going to kiss Dorian and had chosen not to warn him.
"You could have told me," Dorian said. He was a little lightheaded. From the kiss, or from holding the smoke in his lungs too long, he didn't know.
Ashton leaned back against the edge of the couch that Orym was sitting on and passed him the pipe again, which meant Orym's mouth was occupied with something other than answering Dorian. "You would'a freaked out," Ashton said.
Dorian did not deny this.
"That was so pretty," Fearne sighed. She was laying on her side now, head propped up on one hand, watching the two of them. "You guys should do that more often."
"Tell me we're not playing spin the bottle again," Imogen groaned.
"We're not in a circle," Laudna said.
"Pity." That was Braius. One of his filed-sharp fingernails traced down the back of Dorian's neck, from the point of his hairline to his shirt collar. "Whatever you did during the last game looked good."
"We can't be sure that wasn't all me," Chetney said. He had curled up right beside Fearne's head, looking even smaller than usual. Dorian remembered how surprisingly sharp his teeth had been, even in his gnomish form.
"We can be, technically," Orym said.
"Yeah. Somebody else has just gotta kiss Dorian," Ashton added, adjusting the positioning of their shoulder so that Orym's legs rested on their chest, curling one hand around his thigh.
"You just did that!" Dorian said.
"That wasn't a kiss, dumbass."
Fearne took the pipe from Ashton without asking. They let her do it.
"It sure felt like one," Dorian muttered. Suddenly, the silky pillow under his hand felt very hot. Or his hand was very hot. Was he sweating?
"Mm. Not really." Ashton's thumb ran down the stitching on the side seam of Orym's trousers. Dorian wondered what that felt like. He wanted to touch, too. "Dare you to let me give you a real one."
Dorian was sweating. Seven pairs of eyes were on him, but he felt Ashton's most of all. He didn't look at them, though. He looked at Orym.
Orym was curled in anticipation, like he was about to throw himself into a fight. Dorian wasn't quite certain what that meant, but, like it would have if they were about to begin a battle, it spurred him to action.
He shifted over Fearne's legs and got into Ashton's lap before he could stop and think about it. He'd say all of Bells Hells held their breath, but Ashton didn't. They moved before Dorian could, their boiling-hot right hand at the small of his back, their left around his neck again. They pulled him down and kissed him, and Dorian stopped wondering about their lips, and started feeling them instead.
It was more of a head-rush than the pipeweed had been. Dorian heard Orym gasp. Ashton didn't bite at his lip the way Chetney had—he licked him, his thumb tracing down Dorian's jaw to his chin, to urge his mouth open a little ways. His tongue brushed against Dorian's this time, oddly cold compared to his breath. Even colder compared to the red-hot arm winding around him, keeping them tight together.
Ashton's groan of decadent satisfaction struck Dorian with a heat that didn't come from Ashton's body at all. Both of Ashton's hands dropped to his hips, then, as they shifted their seat just enough to fit one of their thighs between Dorian's and rocked him down hard against them.
Dorian said, "ah!" and someone said, "fuck," and it wasn't either of them. Dorian suddenly remembered to listen to the others, who were never quiet and hadn't started now.
Chetney said, "I was better, probably."
Laudna said, "they look like a painting," to a quiet hum of agreement from Imogen.
Braius said, "that's hot," and then also, "I call next."
Dorian leaned back from Ashton and said, "what do you mean, you call next—" only to be overshadowed by a pair of horns.
"I mean," said Braius, "I call next."
And then he kissed Dorian too.
Dorian wondered if the pipeweed was wildly hallucinogenic, and this was all an elaborate dream.
But the massive hands cupping his face felt real. Ashton's thigh between his legs felt real. The quiet noise of the rest of the Hells moving around them sounded real.
"That's so fucking hot," Ashton said. Dorian put his arms around Braius' neck to keep himself steady. He had probably been kissing Braius longer than he'd kissed Ashton and Chet combined. Braius wasn't as insistent as either of the other two had been, he just let Dorian move and explore and gave him all these soft encouraging noises that Dorian was gorging himself on.
"I want a kiss, too," Fearne said.
"If you don't let Orym have one, I think he's gonna explode," Chetney said.
"Shut up," Orym said, "I'm watching."
There was the sound of somebody else kissing. Maybe someone had indulged Fearne. Had Dorian been going for way too long with Braius? Was it absolutely impolite to make out with someone for this long, even if you were in front of your friends who kissed each other all the time? Ashton's hands were still on his thighs, one hotter, one pleasantly cool through his trousers. They pulled Dorian down again, grinding him against their leg, making Dorian gasp into Braius' mouth, making Braius chuckle, deep and low. Dorian's insides were on fire.
"Come here," he heard Ashton whisper. To Dorian? No. Orym said, "okay."
More shifting, movement. Ashton's hands left his thighs. More kissing around them. When Dorian finally got too curious to keep his focus on Braius, he learned that Ashton had pulled Orym down onto his chest and was kissing and licking Orym's neck while Orym turned to watch Dorian, one hand curled in Ashton's shirt, his eyes glittering and dark. Ashton's whole hand was on Orym's ass. Fearne had her arms tangled so tight around Chet that it was hard to even see him. Laudna's hand was up Imogen's shirt.
"You good?" Orym said, reaching for Dorian's hand.
"Mhm!" Dorian's high-pitched insistence was probably a sign that he was perhaps more than 'good', and very overwhelmed by that fact.
Fearne extricated herself from Chetney and sat up. "Wait, wait, if you're done with him, I want him," she said. Dorian presumed she was talking about Braius, and nodded, only to be fully yanked off of Ashton's lap and into Fearne's, and given several cute, playful kisses all over his cheeks and nose.
"Fearnie," Orym said.
"Everyone's gonna fuckin' kiss your boyfriend before you get a chance," Ashton teased. "Let it happen. C'mere."
Dorian was sure his eyes were wide as dinner plates as he watched Ashton haul Orym into a kiss, and watched Orym go for it, his cheeks flushed and his hair messy and his hands all over their chest and their hands all over his ass.
Oh gods. Ashton kissed Orym like they knew exactly what they were doing. Orym kissed them back like he did, too. Of course Orym knew what he was doing—he'd been married before. Dorian heard Ashton mutter, "god, I wanna suck your dick so bad," and that was. Well. Wow. He really wanted to know what was going to happen there.
Except then he couldn't really see, because Fearne flipped him beneath her, then kissed him, her hair falling loose around them both.
If kissing Braius was a thunderstorm, Fearne was a tidal wave. Dorian didn’t think he’d ever come up for air. Thankfully, he didn’t really need any.
He only had vague impressions of what was going on beyond the forefront of his experience, which was Fearne, Fearne, Fearne. And none of it mattered anyway, because Fearne was twice his size, and she smelled like something deathly sweet, and her bulk forced him to spread his legs debaucherously wide. He thought Braius might be leaning overtop of Fearne, putting more pressure on Dorian, kissing her neck while she bit his. He thought Orym and Ashton might be doing way more right now than kissing one another.
He only got back up because Fearne let him back up. If she’d chosen to, he would have drowned under her forever.
“Was there—did we—did those cocktails have some kind of aphrodisiac?” Dorian huffed.
“Nope!” Fearne said.
“Face it, buddy, everyone was just too jealous of me,” Chetney said. He was lounging back against a pillow with his hands tucked behind his head like he was king of the Feywild.
“He’s just so pretty,” Laudna said. She put one chilly arm around Dorian’s shoulders and drew him over to their side of the massive bed. “Come here, we’re next.”
“If you wanna,” Imogen added. “We’ll treat you right, I promise.”
Dorian tried to look over at Orym, but his view was blocked by Braius bodily grabbing up Chetney, and Fearne following after both of them, apparently ready to sandwich that old man between the two of them. Dorian hoped Chetney didn't simply perish from it.
The back of Laudna's had traced along Dorian's cheek and he leaned into it, the coolness of her skin soothing his heated body. "I think I'd like that," he said, worrying at first that he might have been too quiet. They must have heard, though, because they pulled him in between them, both trading off kissing him and touching him, gently bringing him back to the ground after Fearne had practically flung him into the stratosphere.
"You're trembling, are you alright?" Laudna said, chilly breath by his ear. He nodded, still struggling to speak or breathe.
"It's a lot, isn't it?" Imogen said, petting his chest slowly. She brushed another kiss over his mouth. His lips felt almost polished from all the attention, buffed and swollen from kisses and nips and tongues. "You looked so pretty doin' it, though. Doin' all of them."
Dorian shifted, not uncomfortable, really, just so hot.
“You’re still okay?” Imogen said, her voice as gentle as it was whenever she pressed inquiringly into their thoughts.
“Yeah,” he managed.
“What do you need?” Laudna said.
“We could make you come,” Imogen suggested. “If you want. You don’t gotta get undressed or anything, just let us take care of you, okay?”
The heat growing within him was unbearable, and they had asked. He said, “okay,” in a very small voice.
They snuggled up to him, one on either side, facing away from the pandaemonium and out toward the forest. Laudna’s nails were making shivery little circles over his neck and chest, and Imogen’s warm palm traveled up the inseam of his trousers. It was… strange, Dorian thought. Until now, he hadn’t thought either of them were interested in men.
To be fair, Dorian wasn’t typically interested in women, himself. But the Hells, they truly went beyond the bounds of such simple things as preferences.
“Can I touch you over your clothes?” Imogen asked him. When Dorian looked over at her, he noticed, for the first time, that the first few buttons on her shirt were undone.
“Please do,” Dorian said.
“Alright. We’ll take this slow, yeah?” The soothing drawl of her voice had him relaxing into them, his breathing slow and steady even as she cupped his crotch through his trousers. “Good.”
Laudna’s nails trailed up his neck and under his chin, making him tilt his head toward her for another kiss. Kissing her was strange, in that it was cold, but the difference in temperature was no stranger than the heat of Ashton’s right hand on him. He could taste the strange waxiness of her lipstick. It was nice to sink into a kiss while Imogen touched him, her clever fingers pushing him to even greater heights of desperate arousal.
He must have made some kind of noise, because Imogen said, “good,” again. And then her voice lost that gentle, hypnotic quality, as there was a thump of fabric hitting her hair and she turned her head to holler, “Chetney! You did not just throw your fuckin’ underwear at me!”
So that was happening. Dorian felt a huff of cool air against his cheek as Laudna laughed. Imogen chucked the offending underwear back. Dorian looked over his shoulder for one second and saw way more of Chetney’s ass than he wanted to. Fearne, he noticed, was also naked.
“When did everyone start losing their clothes?” Dorian wondered.
“Right?” Laudna giggled, reaching up to untie Dorian’s hair. “Although, I admit, I am kind of curious about Braius’ equipment.”
“Laudna,” said Imogen.
“Tell me you’re not and I’ll show you a lii-i—ie,” Laudna sang. “To the matter at hand, though—Dorian, would you like to be naked also?”
“Maybe, ah. Just the shirt?”
“Of course!” Laudna removed it with a few quick motions, but was almost reverent in folding up his clothing, leaning aside to set it on the pile of blankets below the bed. “This is so lovely, but I think it looks better off.”
“Do you?” Dorian said.
“Oh yeah,” Imogen agreed. “You’re real pretty.”
“Did these hurt?” Laudna asked, trailing her fingertips over one of the scars on Dorian’s chest.
“Not much, no, the healers back h—back at the Silken Squall—made sure I was alright. Oh, that feels good.” This was in response to Imogen’s hand back on him.
“You needed this, didn’t you?” Imogen said. “I can feel it.”
“Oh gods, am I really that—?” Dorian began, plastering a hand over his mouth before he could say ‘wet’.
“Can I show you?” Imogen said. Dorian, his hand still over his mouth, nodded, and she opened her mind to him.
He didn’t hear words, exactly, but he saw the scene through her eyes, how beautiful she thought the richly saturated color of his skin was next to Laudna’s bone-white, how she liked the way he sounded. And, yes, the dampness between his legs, soaking through his trousers.
He projected his own thoughts back at her, telling her in words he couldn’t bring himself to say how he wanted her to touch his body, to bring him off. After having kissed five people in a row, and being handled so roughly and then so gently, Dorian’s mind was spinning, but Imogen seemed to work something out of his disorganized thoughts. At the very least, the way she touched him brought him close enough to spiral into the slight panic of, “oh gods, I’m going to come in my pants right here in front of six of my closest friends, one of whom I’m in love with, and the hot minotaur we found in a closet.”
“It’s alright,” Imogen soothed him aloud. “We all wanna see you. If you decided to strip naked in front of the whole group of us and let us touch you wherever we like, everybody would thank you."
"That's right." Laudna's nails were scritching through his hair now, a gentle comfort that counterbalanced how insanely aroused he was. Dorian clutched her to him, burying his face in the soft silk of her black undershirt as he rocked his hips into Imogen's touch and allowed himself to let go for them.
He hadn't noticed that the group got sort of quiet, at first in the wake of the chaos of Braius falling off the edge of the couch-bed and taking Chet and Fearne with him, and then in the wake of Dorian making some sort of noise upon orgasm.
He lifted his head from Laudna’s shoulder to find that they were all looking at him. Fearne had turned around where she was sitting on Braius’ lap, and Chetney was leaned over her shoulder to watch. Braius, himself, had cocked his head to the side to see around her. Orym, now in his underwear, was looking at him upside-down, pinned underneath Ashton, who had lost their pants but was somehow still in their skirt.
Dorian's mind was one huge ball of panic.
Fearne broke the silence with a loud, "WOOHOO!" to which Laudna added, "my girlfriend is the best at sex!"
Dorian sort of curled into a ball, and Imogen patted him, telling him he did good, and not to worry about all the rest.
Then Ashton said, "okay, you fuckers, I need something in my fucking mouth. Now."
"Imogen's busy," Laudna immediately said. "With me. She is busy, with me, right now, I've decided it."
"'Kay, fine. Dorian, Orym? Somebody want their dick sucked?"
"Oh gods. You. Actually meant it that way," Dorian said.
"Are we not doing sex now?" Ashton asked. "'Cause it seems like we're doing sex."
"We're doing whatever we want," Fearne announced.
Braius, who had relocated Chet to directly onto his face, did not respond verbally, but gave them all a thumbs-up on sex, possibly because he was already doing sex.
"We're doing whatever we want, as long as whoever we want it with also. Uh. Wants that," Orym corrected her.
"I ask again—" Ashton began.
"I need to kiss Dorian," Orym said. Then his eyes actually met Dorian's, and Dorian realized how much of a need it really was. Orym looked like he was going to die without a kiss.
"You can do that while I go down on you. Dorian, fucking come here," Ashton decided, and then they grabbed Dorian and brought him closer, and then they grabbed Orym and took his underthings off, and Dorian saw Orym's cock for all of a second before. Oh. Gods. Ashton really just went for it.
"Shit," Orym hissed, squirming under Ashton's attention. "Couldn't give me a second to—"
"You don't need a second to, I’ve got you," Dorian said, trying to wrangle any courage he had left in him as he settled down beside Orym, leaned over him, and finally, after nearly a year of wanting to, kissed him.
It would be easy to say it was more magical and different to all the other kisses that Dorian had that night, that the music swelled and Dorian's heart went with it, that he was swept away by it all being Orym. But that would neglect how lovely each of them had been, in their own way, and it would also neglect how Orym could only halfway kiss back, as he kept needing to catch his breath thanks to whatever Ashton was doing.
Whatever was Ashton doing? Dorian wanted details. He wanted to know how to do it. He wanted to make those noises come out of Orym. Perhaps Ashton would teach him—at the very least, they’d probably delight in knowing more than Dorian about the subject.
Dorian petted through the thick, dark hair on Orym's chest, and took a page from Fearne's book and kissed his neck and shoulder, all the way to the edge of his tattoo. Around them, he could hear soft, breathy noises from Imogen but none from Laudna, making him wonder if she had followed Ashton's lead. Fearne was louder, more obvious in her pleasure, and when Dorian glanced their way for a second, he saw her sitting on Braius' lap still, her head thrown back, probably… gods, they probably went all the way, didn't they?
Dorian was incredibly heated again, his trousers even wetter, the center seam rubbing against his clit. He pressed his legs tight together, finding he was especially in need of some kind of pressure there when Orym said, "bite down, it's okay. You can leave marks, I want them." Dorian heard Ashton moan, muffled by Orym's dick. Orym whined and planted his feet on the mattress, like he would be pushing into Ashton's mouth if they didn't have a vice grip on his hips.
Dorian wasn't sure how hard to bite, so he kept it as gentle as he could. Orym's hand cupped the back of his head, gripping his hair and pressing Dorian's face to him. His voice was strangled, like his throat was tight as he told Ashton, "real fucking close there, Ash."
Ashton lifted their head briefly, which meant Dorian watched the red, glistening head of Orym's cock fall out of their mouth. They said, "yeah, fucking come in my mouth," and wrapped their tongue prettily around his cock before going back down on him, like they knew Dorian was looking and wanted to show off. Dorian considered putting a hand down his pants.
Orym's ankles locked behind Ashton's head, and he kept squirming under Dorian's mouth and Ashton's hands.
"What does," Dorian managed to ask, "what does it feel like?"
"It's so good," Orym breathed. "He's so good. Ashton, fuck. I can't—really describe it."
Dorian nuzzled into his neck again, nipping him gently, listening to Orym's breath go shaky and Fearne's moaning go squeaky and the rest of the witches start to giggle and kiss each other.
Orym took several deep breaths, nudged Ashton off of him, and then drew Dorian in to kiss him properly. Dorian was lost in it for several moments, and then jumped when he heard Ashton's neck crack at a volume that shouldn't be okay. Ashton laughed, apparently at Dorian's startled response. Orym just kissed him again. Dorian smelled more smoke, heard Ashton say, "give that here," followed by a long inhale and exhale.
Ashton tapped Dorian on the back of his head to get his attention. "You want more of this?" they indicated the pipe in their hand.
Dorian wavered for only a moment, and then remembered Fearne saying, "we're doing whatever we want." He said, "yes," and then, "and I'd also like you to teach me how to do what you did to Orym."
"Fuck, you're hot. Here," Ashton handed him the pipe, and Dorian was a little put out. "What, you disappointed I didn't kiss you this time? Just take a pull, I'll kiss you after. Lemme check on your boy."
Thankfully, nobody was watching Dorian try to figure out how exactly you were supposed to smoke, as Ashton had scooped Orym up into his arms and was kissing him thoroughly, apparently in the name of 'checking on him', Fearne was chatting with the ladies, Braius was drinking, and Chetney was napping.
Dorian did cough a little bit on exhaling again, but that was mostly because Fearne had pulled a very big pink dildo with straps on it out of the bag of holding, and he was startled.
"Cute, right?" Fearne said, when she noticed him looking. "Can I have that next?"
He handed over the pipe, and said, "well, yes, it is very cute."
"If you want a ride, you gotta wait 'til after Imogen," she said.
Dorian shook his head. "It seems, um. Big. real big."
Ashton attended to the conversation in just enough time to say, "yeah, I think Fearne's got the biggest dick in here."
Fearne sighed happily and said, "no, I do not."
"Seriously?" Ashton looked dubiously at the toy.
"Third biggest, now."
"What, does Braius have two of ‘em?"
"Everything gets bigger when Chetney wolfs out," Fearne said, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively.
"Shit." Ashton’s eyes went so wide, it was noticeable that the damaged one didn’t open as far as the other.
"You a size queen, Ash?" Orym asked.
"Fuck off," they said. "Go drink some water or something. I need to teach your boyfriend how to suck cock."
"Actually." Orym took a long look at Dorian, his gaze stopping between his legs. "If Dorian's okay with it, I think you probably have something to teach us both. I am getting water, though. Hydrate, people!" That last bit was said to the group at large, and was received with various halfhearted acknowledgments.
Orym hopped off the edge of the mattress, still completely naked, and was briefly stopped by Braius, who told him something that made his ears go pink.
"So, um," Dorian said to Ashton, "what exactly? Is he asking for you to teach us?"
"Orym's being a good guy," Ashton said. "He wants me to show him how to eat your pussy right."
"He. Um. You? What?"
"That," they said, pointing to Fearne, who was laying back on the mattress with Laudna over her face and Imogen over the toy she now had strapped over her crotch.
"I know what 'eating pussy' is," Dorian grumbled, indignant. "I just—you want to do that to me?"
Ashton got closer to him, all the way up in his lap. They grabbed his hair right at the nape of his neck and pulled, using their grip to lift his head. "Dorian. You smell like dessert."
"I can't possibly—"
"I don't like sweets." Ashton planted his knee between Dorian's thighs again, rubbing it against him. "I wanna suck your cock. I wanna lick your cunt 'til you scream, and show Orym how to do it right.” He ran his coal-fire-hot fingers down Dorian's throat. “I want you to come in my mouth."
Dorian said something like eep, which prompted Ashton to let go of his hair. Dorian cleared his throat, and said, "are you sure you don't want to, um? Fuck somebody?"
"Not really," Ashton said. Their thigh was still very much between Dorian's legs. "More into getting fucked. Getting my mouth fucked is good, too. What? You look surprised."
Orym returned in time to say, "surprised by what?" as he handed a cup of water to Dorian.
Ashton said, "do I not give bottom vibes to you?"
"You absolutely give bottom vibes to me," Orym said, handing them the cup in his other hand.
Dorian had no idea how to ascertain whether someone had ‘bottom vibes’, and so he drank his water quietly, watching and enjoying the way Ashton very clearly became distracted by Braius, who was watching the ladies and openly touching himself. Bigger than Fearne’s, indeed. Dorian was slightly intimidated, but Ashton just seemed enticed.
Ashton cleared his throat. “Alright, come here, lemme show you a thing.”
“Okay?” Dorian wasn’t really sure how he could ‘come here’ any more than he already had, being practically in Ashton’s lap.
Ashton took his hand, and said, “dicks are easy, you just gotta make sure you don’t choke, and I don’t think you can actually do that,” and before Dorian could make some retort about his unending breath not making him automatically good at oral sex, Ashton licked Dorian’s first two fingers, and put them in his mouth.
“Oh gods,” Dorian said.
“Mmhm,” Ashton replied.
Dorian learned virtually nothing during this demonstration, especially because Orym came close enough to kiss him. Dorian was quickly overwhelmed by that kiss, making all sorts of little soft, pleased noises against his lips, and Ashton pulled back, nipping the tips of Dorian’s fingers.
“Are you even paying attention?” Ashton said.
Dorian did not respond, because he was beginning to learn all the things Orym’s quick little tongue could do. Ashton laughed quietly, then leaned in, and kissed Dorian’s neck. Both of them at once was overwhelming. Dorian’s mind didn’t know where to place his focus: Orym’s teeth scraping his lower lip or Ashton tracing the line of his collarbone with their tongue. Orym’s hand cupping his cheek, or Ashton gripping his thighs.
Then, Ashton apparently decided to win this little contest of distractions. He bit down. Hard.
“Ashton!” Dorian hissed, clapping a hand over the mark.
“Does it hurt?” they asked. “Does it feel good?”
Dorian rubbed his fingers back and forth over the now-smarting bruise. “Both?”
Ashton looked briefly skyward, as if in prayer. “Gods, you’re fucking perfect.” He looked back to Dorian. “Tell me you still want your dick sucked.”
“I. Still. Yes,” Dorian said.
“And here I actually thought I might get you to say it. Nevermind. Why are your pants still on?”
“Your skirt’s still on,” Orym pointed out.
“I don’t need to take it off to get fucked,” Ashton said. “You want a demonstration?”
“Gimme a break,” Orym begged, “I’m barely upright after the last one.”
Ashton smirked, disgustingly self satisfied. “You just wanna save it for Dorian. I know what you’re doing.”
Orym neither confirmed nor denied this, though Dorian hoped it was true, because he had liked the look of Orym’s cock and had a good idea what he wanted with it. “Want some help getting undressed?” Orym said instead, to which Dorian agreed.
Ashton was the one who actually stripped him, in quick, efficient movements. Dorian was, now, naked in the middle of a group of all his friends, and was surprised to find how unselfconscious he felt. This was possibly because he was nearly the last one to strip bare. Once he was naked, only Ashton was wearing anything. And, given the flash of Ashton’s thigh Dorian could see, a bare strip of gold-streaked skin that ran all the way to their hip, Ashton’s current state of dress did not include underthings.
Dorian wasn’t necessarily anxious about his current state of undress, but he had, without thinking about it, sat with his legs together, his knees and hips turned toward Orym. Orym ran a hand over Dorian’s thigh with gentle reverence, his pretty green eyes fixed on Dorian’s. His lashes were almost long enough to rival Braius’.
“You okay?” Orym said quietly, still petting him.
“Very much so,” Dorian replied.
“Wanna keep going?” The soft sound of Orym’s hand on his hip was drowned by some very enticing moaning from the girls’ side of the bed. Dorian still wanted to look nowhere but at Orym.
“Desperately,” he confessed.
Ashton interrupted with, “are you two gonna stare into each others’ eyes about it all night, or can I finally fuckin’ start?”
“I’m ready,” said Dorian, because he had forgotten that Ashton Greymoore didn’t fuck around.
Ashton put one hand on Dorian’s knee and then pushed hard, spreading Dorian’s legs in one swift motion, as if they were throwing open a door.
Dorian had not been ready for that.
“Have some decorum, you animal!” Dorian gasped, only realizing after the fact how terribly prudish that sounded.
“Nah,” Ashton said. “You like it.”
Dorian could not deny that, especially not when any conscious thought he had was stolen from him by Ashton’s tongue giving him a long lick that made him arch his back and press his shoulders into the overstuffed mattress.
“Feels good?” Orym said.
Dorian threw both his arms over his face and made a muffled noise that would pass for an affirmative.
The feeling of somebody’s tongue on him was strange, almost ticklish, and Dorian had to be pinned to the bed. Ashton was strong enough to do it. Their hands were heavy on his hips, one of them so hot their tongue felt cold in comparison. He couldn’t be embarrassed by this, having seen Ashton pin Orym in the same manner moments before.
The first sound Dorian registered over his own panting and moaning was Orym’s voice. “They look so good, don’t they?”
Dorian uncovered his face, assuming Orym was urging him to look at Ashton, and then realized, no, he was talking to Braius, who had come up behind him. Ah. So that was why it felt like someone very large was moving around. Dorian had presumed Fearne was relocating.
“They do,” Braius said. “May I come closer?”
“Yeah. Come here,” Orym said, which was the indicator to Braius to full-on lift him, apparently.
Orym was as quick to react here as anywhere else. He wrapped one hand around Braius’ horn and curled himself forward to kiss Braius, looking absolutely tiny in his arms. As they kissed, their faces blocked and then unblocked one of the hanging lights, making the wetness on their lips shine golden every time they parted.
Ashton lifted his head and rolled his eyes. “You try to give a guy a god damn education.”
“Should we wait for them to— oh!”
Dorian didn’t need to finish his question, because Ashton answered it before he could. And their response came in the form of their tongue inside him, which prevented him from speaking entirely.
Ashton’s mouth was lovely, but Orym and Braius were also deeply responsible for Dorian’s second orgasm of the night. After a while, Braius decided to sit Orym in his lap, pushing his cock between Orym’s thighs. Dorian wondered if it would be possible for Ashton to get both of them off like that, their hand around one cock, their mouth on the other.
Ashton gave a very satisfied groan as Dorian tipped over into completion, pressing both hands over his mouth as he finished, his abs tensing as his body tried to fuck Ashton’s face.
“Nice,” Braius said as Ashton sat back and wiped their face clean.
“Thanks.” Ashton caught their breath. “That’s about the only thing my mouth’s good for.”
“Your mouth is also good for excessive swearing,” Dorian remarked.
“Fuck you,” Ashton replied affectionately.
“Ash!” Fearne called from across the room. “You want a turn?” She was pointing indicatively at the toy she was still wearing.
Dorian knew from Ashton’s grin that the answer was going to be, “fuck yes,” before they even said it. “Braius,” Ashton continued, “get over here. I wanna wake Chet up and see who’s actually biggest.”
Braius considered Dorian and Orym for a moment.
“You can have them back later,” Ashton said. “Guarantee those two are gonna need some time to stare at each other awkwardly before round three.” They grabbed Braius’ arm and tugged, taking him with them.
Dorian sat up, about to protest, but Ashton had already hopped off the bed and was hollering at Chetney to ‘get the fuck up and fuck me, already!’
“I do not need any time to stare at you awkwardly,” Dorian said anyway.
Orym watched as Imogen and Laudna scooted to the edge of the bed to help judge the literal dick-measuring contest, and said, “hm?”
“I’m just saying, I don’t need to—I could keep going right now! That’s what I’m saying.”
“Oh yeah?” Orym grinned like he might be teasing a little.
“Yeah! Yes. Actually, I would really, really like you to be, um. Inside of me.” He could feel his arousal compound even just saying it aloud.
“Yeah.” Orym stood, so that he could kiss Dorian. “Yeah, I want that, too. Have you ever—?”
“Oh! Yes, well. With my fingers and such,” Dorian said. “It’s. I like it. I’d like it more if it was you.”
Orym said, “fuck, Dorian,” like he was blown over by even that little bit of confidence. “Do you wanna be on top? You can kinda, uh. Control how much you take at once.”
Dorian thought of the quick flashes he’d seen of Imogen’s thighs as she fucked herself on Fearne’s toys, and said, “yes, please, let’s.”
“Kiss me again first,” Orym said. “You’re not gonna be able to once I’m inside you, I’m too short.”
“You’re the exact right height,” Dorian protested.
“Okay, sure, but I’m still not gonna be able to fuck you and kiss you at the same time,” Orym said, pressing kiss after sweet kiss against Dorian’s mouth before dropping his weight backward and taking Dorian with him, sprawling back on the bed with Dorian on top.
Dorian lunged after him and kissed him again, readjusting as he went so that Orym’s knee wasn’t in his gut. With Orym’s legs spread out, Dorian could sink fully against him, but he didn’t lean all his weight on Orym, a little concerned that he might squish something sensitive.
The feeling of Orym’s cock against his belly was becoming too much. Dorian couldn’t stamp out his wildfire lust, and didn’t need to. Of course he didn’t need to. He just needed to do exactly what Ashton was doing to Fearne over there.
Dorian looked to the two of them for reference, and realized that wasn’t exactly going to be helpful, given that Ashton was being fucked somewhere else, was facing the opposite direction, and was letting Chetney claw at him while he rode Fearne. (They had, in fact, convinced Chetney to ‘wolf out,’ and Fearne did, in fact, seem to have the third biggest dick out of the group.)
Just fitting the whole of Orym’s cock inside him sent Dorian collapsing, down on his elbows on the mattress with Orym underneath him. Orym kissed and bit and licked Dorian’s chest wherever he could reach.
Orym may not have had the third-biggest cock in Bells Hells (or the fourth. Ashton took the skirt off, and Dorian had eyes.) but he was just thick enough for Dorian to feel good and full, and his breath was warm on Dorian’s chest, and his hands gripped tight on Dorian’s hips. And on top of it all, he said, “oh, fuck, Dorian, you feel so good, you’re so good.” Dorian pressed his forehead against the mattress and fucked himself full of Orym until he was panting for him, crying for him, coming for him.
And then Orym got his hands on Dorian for real.
“Can you keep going?” he asked, using the additional space Dorian had put between them when he sat back to touch his breath in order to thumb at his clit. “Can I touch your cock while you do?”
His legs shook, but he had better stamina than that. Dorian collected himself and kept going, because, he learned, the only thing better than Orym’s cock in him was Orym touching him while he did it.
Dorian began to get brazen, rolling his hips like he was on a dance floor, moaning aloud instead of covering his mouth. Ashton was just as loud, after all, especially now that they were between Braius and Chetney. And Fearne, who had been scooped up by the girls again to finally get some hands on her, was louder than them both.
Orym worked him through another orgasm, and Dorian truly felt like he was going to melt into nothingness. Thankfully, he was light enough that Orym needed very little effort to put him on his back.
“Keep going,” Dorian said. “I want you to finish, too.”
“Like this?” Orym said, fucking into him demonstratively.
“Yes!” he cried. There was an animalistic growl from the distance that may have been Chetney, or may have been Fearne.
Orym took Dorian’s hand and kissed his palm and the inside of his wrist. He held Dorian’s hand to his cheek as he moved, faster than Dorian could have possibly fucked himself on Orym’s dick, which was absolutely destructive on Dorian’s capacity for higher thought.
Because, for every day of his life after today, he would exist knowing exactly how Orym fucked when he was about to come.
Orym was saying something when he finished, but Dorian didn’t get to hear what it was, not over Chetney absolutely howling. Orym squeezed Dorian’s hand tight, gave one final thrust in, and then his mouth dropped open on a wordless, shuddering breath.
When Dorian gathered Orym up into his arms, kissing his head and his cheeks, over the claw-mark scars, he asked, “what was it you were saying?”
“Mm?” Orym curled up close to him, flushed and sweating and apparently delighted.
“While Chet was—“ another howl split the night, interrupted by Ashton yelling, “you’re gonna make me go deaf on the good side, jackass!”
“Oh,” Orym said. “Nothing important. Well—not nothing important, it was—I was just saying your name.”
“Oh! That’s very sweet.” Dorian kissed the top of his head again. “You’re very sweet.”
Fearne settled down on Dorian’s other side, smelling like crushed greenery and salt, soft and warm, her hand going around his waist. Beyond her, he could hear Imogen and Laudna talking quietly.
“I can’t believe we all just did that,” Orym said, sounding a bit delirious.
“I can’t believe we did all that and there’s still so much to try!” Fearne replied. “By the way, Dorian?”
“Mm?”
“Braius says he wants you to ride him next.”
“Now?” Dorian asked, trying to look around for Braius but only seeing Fearne leaning in to kiss his forehead.
“Not now, you vixen! Not everybody can go five rounds—five? Six?”
“Uh.” Dorian couldn’t remember.
Ashton made an appearance, laying longways with their head next to Dorian’s, while Chetney and Braius curled up in a monochromatic puddle on the blankets. “Hey. I need to tell you. I need to actually fuckin’ teach you how to suck a dick, and you better pay attention next time.”
“Will there be a test?” Dorian asked.
“Uh-huh, yeah. The test is, you suck my dick. Obviously.”
“What do I get if I pass?” Dorian began tracing the curling patterns of Orym’s tattoo.
“I don’fuckin’. Ugh.”
“There you go, Ash, just keep pretending you wouldn’t give him literally anything he asked, whenever,” Fearne said, with great condescension, reaching up to pat Ashton on the cheek.
“Fuck off.”
“I love you too!” she chirped, wrapping her arm around Dorian and Orym both.
“Mmph.” Ashton cuddled a little closer, their hand smoothing along Fearne’s hair, and they leaned in and kissed Dorian on the head. “I’m going the fuck to sleep.”
Dorian could hear strange fey creatures calling in the distance, but the sounds of his dear friends breathing slowly and drifting gently to sleep were louder in his ears.
The Fey could have him. Dorian had given it his name, his heart, and his body, shared, he would admit, with the rest of Bells Hells.