Afterglow (Closed)

[Deleted]

He gasped, chest heaving, and managed on slightly quavering arms to lower himself to press a kiss to Joan's forehead. It was salty with the tang of sweat, not that Dorian was any better, coated in a sheen, superhuman endurance aside. With a motion of final surrender, Dorian collapsed onto his back beside Joan, staring at the ceiling. The room was alight with a soft glow, lighter now that things had settled down, but steady and strong: drifting from Joan, next to him. Dorian couldn't stop smiling, and found the prospect of not having any physical contact with Joan just then worse than death. To correct this, he reached out and pulled the younger man onto himself, chest-to-chest, heedless (or perhaps a bit relishing) of their slicked skin sticking together. His bones sang at the radiation boring tenderly into his every molecule. Some perpetually rational, logical and pragmatic corner of his brain pointed out that it'd never felt that way. That, for the first time in his life, Dorian understood why the act was referred to as "making love." That same part pointed out that this was, none of it, good. He was becoming much too beholden to and vulnerable with Joan Amador. The vast majority of Dorian's mind, though, was at a peace and heart-breaking gladness he'd never known before. "You know," he said, broad hands running feather-light caresses down Joan's bare spine, "you're much naughtier than I would've ever expected." Dorian's gaze swept the semi-lit room, which looked as though a small storm had raged through it. Furnishing overturned, belongings strewn, and a broken ottoman among them. "Not that I'm complaining. Far, far from it." He flexed his fingers, nails etching lines down Joan's back for a stroke, then returned to his more gentle skimming.

... to be talkin' to you: b e l l a d o n a. should've taken a break, not an oxford comma. take what i want when i wanna. and i want ya ... Warlock Joan Amador

template by rem of WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]

[Joan Amador]

The world to him was a blur of radiation and pleasure. He was pretty sure at one point the room had literally been alight from his powers. He'd never done anything like this before. He'd never known how much control he could lose - how much control Dorian could make him lose. But he trusted Dorian without any hesitation, any doubt, and hadn't once been afraid of himself or his powers. Not that his mind could form many, if any, coherent thoughts as he'd clung to and clawed at the older man. He hummed softly, eyes fluttering, when he felt a kiss on his forehead. He couldn't quite recall when they'd gotten to the bed. His memories, like his thoughts, were a blur - all he could remember was Dorian, nothing but Dorian. He turned on his side when he felt Dorian's hands pulling him closer, curling up and nuzzling his face against the other man's neck. He wasn't sure what had exhausted him more: The more physical aspect of what they'd gotten done doing - after all he clearly didn't have Dorian's stamina - or the amount of radiation he'd put off. He decided to assume a mixture of both because he didn't have the energy to think more on that end. He was surprised, though. His powers had bloomed and turned into a tidal wave of radiation - at one point he was pretty sure almost his whole body had been glowing; in fact the room had filled with enough radiation that the energy had been visible. Typically when he got even a little close to that happening, his body reacted violently. But there had been nothing violent here. He'd lost some - a good amount - of control but as far as he could tell, he felt fine. There was no headache, no nosebleed. Thank God his ears weren't bleeding and he didn't feel like he was about to throw up. He felt the exact opposite of that. Was this what people meant when they said they felt like they were on a cloud or in Heaven? He couldn't help wondering where Dorian had been all his life. The safety he felt with Dorian was different that that he felt when he was with his siblings or Perses. He could only let his guard down, he'd convinced him, around his siblings, around Perses, when his powers were being nullified. He had to lose his powers in order to be himself around them. He didn't have to do that with Dorian. As much as he hated his powers, as much as he wished he could get rid of them, he didn't have to lose them to be with Dorian, to be himself. Joan's eyes fluttered open - When had they closed? - when he heard Dorian's voice. He felt his face heat up at the comment, remembering all that they had did and how much of it had been his suggestion. He hadn't realized before that there was so much he'd wanted to try. He hadn't even really realized he knew about majority of those - er - acts before now. "Send the bill to Perses," he replied, so used to referring to that man by his codename even in private that even now he didn't slip and refer to him how he wanted to, how he had done for years before. "Though God, don't tell him why." He chuckled against Dorian's neck. He may have been an adult, but there was a list of people he was too embarrassed to let them know he suddenly have this kind of life. He could feel Dorian's fingers, his hands on his back. It made him wish he had more stamina. He didn't want this moment to end. His own arms moved to wrap around Dorian's chest. "Can we stay like this?"

... It comes in waves, i close my eyes, hold my breath, and let it bury me. i'm not okay and it's not alright. won't you drag the lake and bring me home again?... fallout @dorian outfit 642 words This thread takes place before MISSION: burn your kingdom down & Take My Hand.

template by rem of WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]

[Deleted]

Joan's arm slid along the glistening, damp skin of Dorian's ribcage, winding around his chest to more securely affix himself to the older man's body. One part of the Warlock wanted to push the attack. Not give Joan a moment's respite, lit aflame with the fevered, insatiable hunger that Joan inspired in him. Another part realized that just this - spooning - was bringing him almost as much happiness as the more carnal acts that had preceded it. And, just as that fevered part of him was always constant since that first kiss he'd shared with Joan, any amazement at his quickly, radically altering self couldn't win out against the... Joy? That Joan blessed his shriveled, withered soul with. He'd never craved intimacy in any fashion with another human being before, and now? Now Dorian's chest ached, somehow missing Joan even though they were knotted around each other. "Can we stay like this?" Dorian's skin tingled with the hot breath on his neck, eyes rolling momentarily back into his head. "Mmm," was all he could manage at first. His questing hand on Joan's back dipped beneath the boy's waist and settled there instead, massaging and painting longing lines. "Naked, you mean?" he asked slyly. "Oh, I don't believe I'll ever let you put clothes on again." It was a joke. But only just. Dorian had believed Joan to be the most beautiful person he'd ever seen before he'd seen him bare. Now the barest thought of any other physical specimen could do nothing but revile him. Dorian believed, quite confidently, he could spend the rest of his life worshiping Joan's form and never tire of it.

... to be talkin' to you: b e l l a d o n a. should've taken a break, not an oxford comma. take what i want when i wanna. and i want ya ... Warlock Joan Amador

template by rem of WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]

[Joan Amador]

He squirmed a little when Dorian's hand moved low, still not quite used to that. He looked forward to being very used to it, though. He wasn't so sure he was as attractive as Dorian seemed to think he was. He wasn't necessarily insecure about his appearance, it was just he had eyes and had seen Dorian and he didn't think anyone could compare to how attractive Dorian was, including himself. But he couldn't help but feel beautiful under his boyfriend's gaze. He could practically feel whenever Dorian looked at him. Especially right now, he felt like he had a heightened awareness of the other man, almost as if he could feel a small portion of what Dorian was feeling. He assumed it was a figment of his imagination, his mind trying to make this moment even more romantic than it already was. After all, he wasn't an empath. He lightly chuckled against Dorian. "If I keep dating you, I won't have any clothes left to wear." His words were chastising but teasing, remembering the way his clothes had been torn. "I liked that shirt, by the way." Thankfully it wasn't his favorite shirt. Still, he wasn't sure how he was going to explain to Perses that he'd need to go clothes shopping often if Dorian kept tearing his clothes impatiently. "But what I meant," he replied, moving his head just enough to place a soft kiss against Dorian's neck, right under his chin. "Was can we stay together." He moved his hand, reaching up to run his fingers through Dorian's hair. He admittedly had no intention of allowing Dorian to ever leave him. He wasn't sure when he'd become so... possessive and he was fairly certain it was only with Dorian. But Dorian, in his opinion, was the only one who understood him; the only one he'd allowed to see the dark, depressed thing that was himself. The only one he'd ever fully let his guard down around. Joan paused though, fingers resting in Dorian's hair, and pulled his head enough away to look up at the other man's own eyes. There'd been something he'd been wondering for a while now, in fact since he'd first been told about Dorian, before they'd even met. "Why did you agree to this assignment?" he asked, his voice suddenly quieter, a bit more guarded than before. He didn't mean to put his guard up, but he felt nerves twist his stomach at all the possible answers Dorian could give him. He didn't like thinking of himself as a mere assignment and knew their relationship wasn't part of that, but he still felt the need to ask. "You didn't know me," he continued, "Why did you agree to help me?"

... It comes in waves, i close my eyes, hold my breath, and let it bury me. i'm not okay and it's not alright. won't you drag the lake and bring me home again?... fallout @dorian outfit 457 words n/a

template by rem of WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]

[Deleted]

Dorian smirked, his irises glowing a dull burgundy as Joan's comment about his wardrobe brought sinful backflashes of before. "Oh, baby," he all but moaned, lips burrowing and voice muffled in the hair atop Joan's head, "I'll buy you all the clothes in the world if it means I get to tear them off of you." His brain was drunk and dazed in the strange spell Joan had cast on him, and Dorian wholeheartedly in that moment believed that that would be the best possible use of the fortune he'd amassed over his life. Joan lifted his head, his lips - full and soft enough to make physical longing well up beneath Dorian's waist afresh - brushing against Dorian's neck. The question that came next wrangled the older man's burgeoning desire to pounce on the boy again. Some part - petty and twisted; stunted and diseased; selfish and cruel - clawed at that idea. He'd spent a life alone, using others to build himself up, and those traits ran deep and dark in the bedrock of his soul. But Joan... Joan had shattered him to his core like a cataclysmic meteor. The thought of Joan leaving the sheets with him in that moment, let alone the room, let alone his life- Joan's fingers were in his hair, but Dorian acted instinctively. The hand on Joan's backside clutched firmly and he pulled the boy up and onto him, clutching him, chest to chest, as if that physical action alone was answer enough. The warm and pure feelings Joan was planting in Dorian spurred his tongue to form words, but his wicked fibers shaped them; screened them. "Have I not said?" he asked, reproachful, dangerous. "You're mine, Joan Amador." His chest heaved with emotion, getting worked up at the concept of any alternative. The moments bled, one into the next and Joan perked up, curious and questioning eyes meeting Dorian's. "Why did you agree to this assignment? You didn't know me. Why did you agree to help me?" Lies sprang to mind. They'd be so easy to tell. He'd honed his ability to twist and mangle the truth; wind it around unsuspecting throats and only pull it tight when they least suspected it. But lying to Joan? His stomach knotted and something in his chest pitched sideways at the thought. Lying to Joan? No. It was an impossibility. Just like manipulating his emotions selfishly had been since that first night they'd spent together in that very bed. "I didn't have much of a choice," Dorian said, hoping the truth would be the best course - since it was what Joan deserved. "Our benefactor is quite... persuasive. But," the older man hurried on, catching and arresting any mournful and sad thoughts Joan might have been having at the revelation, "I'm glad for it. Fate finding a way to give me you." To reaffirm his point, Dorian latched both hands onto Joan's rear, pulled him further up, so they were eye-to-eye, and tangled their lips together.

... to be talkin' to you: b e l l a d o n a. should've taken a break, not an oxford comma. take what i want when i wanna. and i want ya ... Warlock Joan Amador

template by rem of WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]

[Joan Amador]

Joan laughed at the idea of Dorian buying him clothes only to tear them up. He was pretty sure that would have been considered a waste of money but the thought was still entertaining. The radiation rose like bubbles with his laughter, as light as his heart felt. He could barely remember a time when he'd never known worry, when he'd felt content and happy with his life - after all, it was hard to remember the time before he'd gotten his powers. But that was how he felt with Dorian around. He felt safe, happy, content - He felt like he was finally home, despite being so far from the physical home he'd always known. He'd felt a bit homesick when he'd first gotten to the States, to this country, but with Dorian, he felt like he'd found his home. Perhaps this was what people meant when they said home could be a person. He made a small startled noise when he was suddenly grabbed and he found himself straddling Dorian. His face heated up and he reminded himself that Dorian seemed to have much more stamina - inhuman amounts, it seemed - than he did. He was certain if he tried to keep up with the other man, he wouldn't be walking the next day. He decided that was a calculated risk he could take. Despite the dangerous edge to Dorian's words, Joan smiled softly, reaching up and cupping Dorian's face with both hands. He leaned forward, whispering in Spanish, <"And you are mine,"> before placing a tender kiss against his lips that quickly turned more feverish. He melted into Dorian's embrace, into his touch. He was still straddling Dorian, now a bit more breathless, when his question was finally answered. He watched him curiously, perfectly fine with waiting as it allowed him to attempt to catch his breath. He mulled over the answer - Perses was quite persuasive. He couldn't help wondering what he'd offered to persuade Dorian to help a total stranger. He didn't think there was a limit to the money he'd have been willing to pay. After all Perses cared about him and wanted what was best for him. Joan's eyes were back on Dorian when he continued talking. He smiled shyly, dipping his head. Then he was grabbed with both hands this time and found himself impossibly closer to his boyfriend. A soft, pleased sound escaped him as he found Dorian's lips on his once again. His arms snaked up and rested, hanging on Dorian's shoulders. He pressed his body down against the other man, his eyes fluttering close at the kiss. He'd never thought he'd ever be able to be with someone like this or in any way for that matter. There was no fear of the way this affected his powers, no fear in the possibility of hurting Dorian, no fear in the promise of being happy. He wondered what he'd done to deserve such happiness and swore to himself he'd never let this go.

... It comes in waves, i close my eyes, hold my breath, and let it bury me. i'm not okay and it's not alright. won't you drag the lake and bring me home again?... fallout @dorian outfit 499 words n/a

template by rem of WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]

END