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“I have an, um. Unusual problem. Magically related, you see,” Dorian said, watching the unchanging expression on Seth Domade’s plain, open face as he babbled. He could picture the expression equally well on Essek’s face, but in a tea house in Zadash, Seth’s would be the only one he’d wear.
Dorian just felt like it would be weird to talk about this in Essek’s home. Now, he felt it might be weirder to do it in public, although nobody was paying them any mind.
“I see,” Essek said, taking a long sip from his cup of green tea and letting Dorian go on.
“Would you be able to give me any advice on,” Dorian tried, failed, and restarted, “well, the thing is—“
“Polymorph?” Essek suggested, with just the barest upward curl of his lip. “To keep you largely the same, yes, but with certain anatomical changes, for the sake of—“
“Gods, yes, yes, what in all— did Orym tell you?” Dorian hissed the end of his sentence in an accusatory whisper.
“He didn’t need to.” Essek nudged Dorian’s own cup back in his direction, as if to remind him to take a sip before he exploded. Dorian did. “You have a question about learning magic, but you’re asking me, and not my partner, who is a much more accomplished and more approachable tutor. You’re not interested in my specialty, you’re embarrassed to ask, and you know that I’m aware of your intimate relationship with a man who’s versatile in the bedroom, and that I have a similar one.”
That was one way of putting it. Much more delicate than, ‘I watched my partner fuck your boyfriend.’
Dorian just bowed his head and drank his tea.
“The only thing I do not understand,” Essek said, “is why you asked me here, of all places.”
Dorian did not explain the better part of his reasoning, because it was very clearly been weirder to ask in public.
“Ca—er, Bren said you liked tea.”
Essek smiled. “Trying to get on my good side, I see.”
Dorian shrugged. “I supposed it wouldn’t hurt.”
“It doesn’t,” Essek replied. “I would have helped you either way, but now I’ll keep any more judgmental comments to myself.”
“Gods,” Dorian said, “am I glad we got tea, then.”
— — —
“I’ve never managed the combination of getting it to look right, act right, and still be able to feel it,” Dorian said. “I can’t say what I’m doing wrong.”
“Show me what somatics you’re using,” Essek said.
They were in the Widogast household, in the study. Essek was wearing his own face and a critical eye, and was hovering about a foot off the ground, which brought him eye level with Dorian.
“I… don’t use somatics?” Dorian said. “I’m a bard, Essek, you’ve seen me cast, it’s just sound.”
“Hm. Well, show me that, then, without actually casting. It’s as good a start as anything.”
Dorian positioned his lute properly and performed the quick, plucked-string progression that he used to change something’s shape.
Essek studied his finger movements carefully. “I was wondering if anything about the motion of playing your instrument matched up with the somatic gestures for my version of the spell,” he admitted. “But I suppose that doesn’t make any sense. They’d change if you played a different instrument.”
“That one’s also possible to sing,” Dorian said, and he demonstrated this as well.
“Fascinating,” Essek said. “Hm. With the wizard’s casting, the way you change that spell is a little somatic change to make it work on yourself rather than an outside creature, and then beyond that, there are minute shifts in the way you apply energy to those gestures and the verbal and material components in order to make changes beyond that—to manipulate a specific part of your body, to change it to this or that, the same way you would choose to become, oh… an orange whale.”
“An… orange whale?”
“Caleb likes to remain ginger no matter the circumstances,” Essek said. “Have you ever used the spell on someone else with adjustments like that, or has it always been a direct copy of what you’ve seen?”
“Oh, always one-to-one, I guess,” Dorian said. When he turned enemies into mice, he was thinking of actual mice he’d seen darting in and out of tavern room corners.
“And have you been attempting that for your cock? Using one you’ve directly seen, I mean.”
“Well, no. The ones I’ve directly seen—“ Dorian cleared his throat. “Limited, and, well. We just talked about coloration. I don’t want—it would be weird, if it didn’t match.”
“Color is the easiest thing to change,” Essek said. “But you need practice on something easier than your own body. That much is for certain.”
“Hopefully not putting dicks on any wildlife,” Dorian joked.
Essek hid any resultant smile. “We’ll start with color.”
This was how they ended up in the garden, with Dorian utilizing the bulk of his magical energy to turn squirrels into birds of increasingly ludicrous colors. They still had the same shape as the house sparrows that flittered around Essek’s garden, but Dorian found that when he put the right intention into the spell, focusing hard enough, he could make them lime-green, or a matching blue to his own complexion.
Essek watched him closely the whole time, eyes fixed in extreme focus on his hands when he strummed the spell, and then on his lips when he performed it vocally, just to see what Essek might do.
After Dorian had exhausted his higher-level spellwork capabilities, Essek asked him if he knew any other spells within the school of Transmutation and Dorian had to admit, with some embarrassment, that he didn’t know what school most of his casting was classified under.
“It’s just, we don’t learn it that way! We learn it through songs, so, I know what key they’re all in, what the tempo is. Not the, the school.”
“That is fascinating all its own,” Essek said. “But, school aside, let’s look at cantrips—you can cast Prestidigitation, yes?”
“Of course,” Dorian said. “I think most people who can learn it, do.”
Essek rolled his eyes. “Caleb refuses. Anyhow, show me.”
Essek had him perform the spell a half dozen times, and then do it again with his voice and again with his flute. He cast Detect Magic, and told Dorian to do it again.
“I’m beginning to understand,” Essek said. “It’s sorcery, but it’s not. It’s… directed, it’s asking the Weave to change instead of pulling strings.”
“Well, I’m just one example,” Dorian said. “Braius casts them all completely differently, because he’s from Wildemount. I’m probably quite unusual, as bards go, since I was taught in the Silken Squall.”
“It’s… different. It’s different based on who taught you?”
“Isn’t wizardry?”
“No!” Essek flopped backward onto the grass, as exasperated as Dorian had ever seen him. “The manner in which Caleb casts is almost exactly the same as the manner in which I cast, and we were taught in two opposing nations.”
“Huh.” Dorian wondered at Essek’s blatant and deep frustration.
Dorian worried he had somehow offended Essek with the particulars of his spellwork, and then Essek sat up abruptly, looked him dead in the eye, and said, “you are a marvel, Dorian Storm.”
“Oh! Thank you?”
“Stay for dinner,” Essek said, correcting his original demand, “if you’re able. Please. I need to know more.”
It really was a need. He looked desperate in a way Dorian definitely did not associate with academic inquiry.
“Oh—of course, I mean. Yes. Just let me tell Orym I won’t be back.”
Essek waved a hand. “I need to get some books, anyway. Meet me in the kitchen.”
— — —
They talked all the way through preparing and eating dinner, which was a simple soup Essek could pay half his attention to cooking while the rest of his focus was nose-deep in a textbook.
Essek continually cast a Mage Hand to transcribe his thoughts in a notebook, continuing to talk to Dorian while it wrote. Dorian wondered how much concentration that took. Dorian wondered exactly how brilliant Essek was.
Essek asked questions, and when Dorian couldn’t answer them (which was about half the time), he gave a considering pause and scratched out more notes, usually with the Mage Hand and not his own. He also told Dorian plenty about wizardly magics, which Dorian was certainly not going to remember later.
When Dorian could answer his questions, Essek looked at him like he was the greatest prize he’d ever laid eyes on. And then, usually, he asked more questions.
“I wish Caleb were here,” Essek said, sorting through some of the books in the stacks he’d piled up on the dining table. “He would remember which of these—aha!”
“I can come back when he is,” Dorian suggested.
“I’m not going to give up on this line of inquiry now,” Essek said. “Unless…? Was that a polite way of telling me you must go home?”
He’d told Orym he’d be back in Zephrah ‘later this evening,’ to which Orym had replied, with a slyness that made Dorian think Orym presumed ‘studying magic’ was a euphemism, ‘I won’t wait up.’ Dorian had felt his ears go purple with a blush as he pocketed the Sending Stone.
“It wasn’t,” Dorian said, “just an offer.”
“It is growing late, though,” Essek said. They were still at the dinner table because he’d eaten very slowly. He’d magically reheated the soup three times, and shooed the cats away from it twice. Dorian had finished eating much faster, but he was neither looking in books, nor taking magical notes. “Caleb will be at Soltryce very late, indeed. Alright. After I cross-reference this, I’ll Teleport you back. To Zephrah, yes?”
“Yes,” Dorian said. “Thank you, again, for all your help.”
“Our lessons aren’t done, young man,” Essek said, a glimmer of humor in his eye. “I still haven’t seen you transmute yourself a cock yet.”
— — —
Dorian and Essek settled on the following Yulisen to continue his, er. Studies. He’d told Orym about the previous round, to which Orym had said, “Ashton had better watch out, or you’re gonna become Essek’s new favorite magically fascinating genasi.”
Dorian privately thought that would be impossible, as he didn’t have the primary focus of Essek’s studies in his brain. But Essek’s attention did feel electrifying. Dorian never felt particularly interesting or intelligent for his use of magic—he couldn’t do some of the incredibly powerful spells that Fearne or Imogen or Laudna could—but Essek looked at him like a puzzle, like a mystery. It was flattering. Dorian was flattered.
The morning of, Dorian rolled over in bed and asked if Orym would come to visit Essek with him.
“I don’t have to come with you just because you’re getting naked this time,” Orym said. He didn’t sound very sleepy. He was, after all, a morning person.
“It’s not that.” Dorian pressed his nose into Orym’s hair and confessed, “if I do get it right this time, I want to test it.”
“You can test it with Essek. And Caleb,” Orym said.
“I want to test it with you.”
Orym rolled over and gave Dorian an absolutely dazzling smile. “Well, I’m not gonna say no to that.”
They were slightly delayed because Orym was beautiful and Dorian loved him and just the thought of getting to fuck Orym had aroused Dorian enough that it was so easy to slide Orym’s cock right into him…
Both of them needed to make themselves presentable before they went to see the wizards.
— — —
Caleb answered the door, but Essek was the only one continuing Dorian’s tutelage, thank the gods. Orym asked if he could do sword drills in their yard, which Caleb said was fine, and Essek said was acceptable only if he stayed away from the plants.
Essek brought Dorian upstairs, instead of taking him to the lab he was familiar with.
The door they entered opened into a small sitting area, with two cozy armchairs and a table between them, holding a stack of several books and an unlit oil lamp. A massive bookshelf stood behind the chairs, but Essek ducked around behind it, and when Dorian followed, he realized they were in Essek and Caleb’s bedroom.
The four-poster was a massive piece, carved with leaves and vines, laid with a traditional Zemnian quilt and a knitted blanket at the end. The nightstands on either side were a mismatched set, and it was immediately obvious which belonged to whom. Caleb’s was simple polished wood, painted with little flowers, and held even more books, a small standing clock, and a mug shaped like a cat with several pencils resting in it. Essek’s was a darker stain, with curving lines, and held a few different jars of cosmetics, and a little jewelry stand, currently empty, probably because Essek was wearing his usual earrings.
“I thought this might be more comfortable,” Essek said, “but we can go to the lab if it suits you better.” He sat on his side of the bed and motioned for Dorian to join him.
Dorian sat his lute gently on the wide windowsill, enjoying the bright-sky blue the sunny day brought out in his instrument. There were curtains, but they were thin enough to let the light filter in, and the heavier window-shades were drawn open. Dorian sank onto the down-feather mattress beside Essek, and tried not to imagine how comfortable it must be to lie on. "I've practiced, like you said," he told Essek. "I… it never worked perfectly, obviously."
"How has it gone?" Essek asked.
“I, um, well.”
Essek cut off his dithering by saying, "treat this like solving any other magical problem. Ignore that it's to do with sexual organs, talk to me like you're casting any other spell.”
It was impossible to ignore that it had to do with sex, but Dorian could, at least, pull his courage from the depths and tell Essek what had gone wrong. Since their lesson, his Polymorphs had gone better than his early attempts, especially since he no longer forgot about the balls. He had produced a relatively functional cock, it was just…
"The only example I have, really, is Orym's," he said. "And, well, even if I borrow his and make it match my skin tone, it's still his."
"And that's… uncomfortable for him?" Essek said, his head tilted with gentle confusion. "Caleb doesn't mind when I 'borrow' his, but I suppose preferences do change between people."
"No, I mean, he doesn't have any problem with—well, it is a preference thing, really." Dorian shifted awkwardly, trapping his hands between his thighs so he didn't fidget. "Orym is perfect, well, for me, but Orym isn't big enough for, uh. Orym."
Essek said, simply, pointedly, "ah."
"And I tried to scale it up, you know, I'm twice as big as Orym, so if my cock was twice as big, it would be—but no. It looks weird if you scale it up like that. And it's far too thick." Dorian looked away from Essek, at the back of the bookcase, where a tapestry with cats and snakes and peacock feathers and several very phallic flowers hung. "But, at least, I could feel it."
"And did you put it through any testing?" Essek said, like he was perfectly able to divorce the erotic from the technical.
"Oh, yes." Dorian was probably going so purple he matched Essek's complexion. "Orym, um. With his mouth, and the second one was too big for anything but hands, so." He sighed. His sighs could get extensive, him being made of more air than most people.
"So, you require a more suitable example?" Essek said. "We do have one, of course."
"Do you really think that would just… I mean, I'd have to see, well, I have seen, but it wasn't like I looked, and you know, that was my first time—"
Essek lifted his hand to twist a thin copper bracelet on his wrist. He raised it to his mouth and said, "Caleb. As predicted, we require a practical example. Please come upstairs at your leisure."
Had Caleb been expecting to be asked this?
"You look nervous," Essek said.
"I really shouldn't be. Right? Like, we've done, well, a lot before. But it feels, it's different, things just fell into place last time."
"For wizards, an academic study is things falling into place," Essek said. He reached out, slowly, and laid a hand over Dorian's on his thigh. "It is alright if this does not work. It is alright if you get aroused and then wish to do exactly as we've done before, without any spells. It is alright, even, if you decide that the best way to learn the shape of my partner's cock is to have it inside you."
"Essek," Dorian breathed.
"But, all of that considered, please know that I would very much like to watch you cast." He said it like he was telling Dorian he'd like to watch him suck Orym's cock, or something. (Dorian would let Essek watch him suck Orym's cock.) "If you'll allow me that privilege."
Dorian nodded. The door opened before he could give Essek any further confirmation, and both Caleb and Orym walked around the bookcase to stand in front of them.
Orym's hair was tousled, his shirt had gone missing, and he was faintly sweaty, all things Dorian would expect from practicing sword drills, but all things that had different context when he was sitting in a bedroom. Orym looked around the room with an interest that said he, too, was a little curious what Caleb and Essek's bedroom was like.
"I don't have to stay," Orym said. "Caleb told me he was being a test subject, and I figured if all of you were working on this, I could make myself helpful."
Caleb, with absolutely no provocation and much to Dorian's surprise, began stripping off his clothes. "Yes, I think you'd be able to get me to a proper state for Dorian to observe," he said.
"I'm not bad with my hands," Orym replied. "My fingers are a little short, though."
"Shouldn't be a problem, so are Essek's."
Dorian watched, slightly aghast, as Caleb got entirely naked and sat behind Essek on the bed, leaning in to kiss him on the head. He was unselfconscious, relaxed, like a classy sort of nude painting: lean muscle and red hair and a fair handful of scars Dorian could see better in the midmorning sun than in lamplight. There was softness to him, but he seemed like the sort of man who didn't put weight on easily, and all his joints were prominent in a way that would make a younger man gangly, but just made him look sharp-edged.
And there was his cock, of course. Soft, for now, lying in the crease of his hip. His red hair glowed in the light that filtered through the gauzy curtains.
And while Dorian had been eyeballing Caleb with absolutely no pure thoughts in his head, Orym and Essek had been comparing the size of their hands. Caleb had been right, Essek's hands were as small and slim as the rest of him, and while Orym's fingertips only met his first knuckle, Essek's hands didn't dwarf Orym's the way Dorian's or Ashton's did. Ash could practically fold Orym's entire hand in their palm.
"Anyway," Orym said, "we figured you had to see his dick in different, uh, states, like how you would with mine, and that it'd be easiest to do that if there wasn't anybody's hand in the way."
"Probably," Dorian agreed. He was speaking like he was in a trance.
"Clever," Essek said. "Caleb, are you comfortable with that?"
Caleb snorted a laugh. "With letting a handsome man finger me while two others watch? I might wonder if I'm dreaming, but yes. Very comfortable, Schatz. Thank you for asking. Dorian, are you alright? You look a bit faint."
"I'm so normal," Dorian said.
He received three dubious looks in response.
"I would like you to do that, very much, yes, please," he elaborated.
Orym pulled Dorian's hand towards him, and kissed his knuckles. "At your command, Dorian."
At this point, they had played around a little with Dorian giving orders and Orym obeying them, and Dorian was slowly becoming better at it. It worked best for him when he put on an imperious, demanding affectation, all the princely haughtiness he could summon, and Orym teased him until he snapped. It didn't quite suit their circumstances at present.
"I think, ah. Maybe Essek is more, well. Commanding."
Essek shrugged. He sat primly beside Caleb, his hands in his lap. In a pale grey-blue tunic with loose sleeves drawn in at the wrists and tiny pearl buttons up the front, he looked softer than he would in the black and silver of his usual attire, but he was no less authoritative.
"I am accustomed to Essek being rather commanding, indeed," Caleb said. "When he wants to be. Most of the time, however, he's actually more de manding."
"Close your mouth, Widogast, you are a demonstration, not a commentator," Essek said. "Orym, you'll want the drawer on that side."
"Yessir." Orym responded so crisply he might as well have snapped a salute with it.
"Breathe, Dorian," Caleb said, patting his thigh.
Essek said, "what part of 'close your mouth' did you not understand?"
Caleb shut his mouth obligingly, and then pointed to Essek, and then to Dorian, who was, indeed, breathing, but not at the pace he should have been.
As Orym returned, having dug out a tin of lubricant from Caleb's nightstand drawer, Essek resituated himself beside Dorian, lifting his chin with two fingers and pointing his gaze in Caleb's direction.
"Are we all good?" Orym asked.
Caleb, who still had his mouth closed, nodded. Essek nodded with him.
"I'm fine," Dorian said meekly. "I want to see. Please."
"Dorian." Essek squeezed the back of his neck. "I'd like you to sit behind Caleb, so you can watch over his shoulder. You'll get the best angle."
Having been given something to do, Dorian's mind relaxed. If Essek was telling him how he was meant to play this out, then Caleb couldn't have any qualms with him directly, but would have to complain to Essek. It felt a bit like Dorian was shirking whatever responsibility for this scene he was meant to have, but it was comfortable to fall back into this role, and to let Essek take the lead.
He wedged himself in behind Caleb, who smelled warm and slightly sweet, like cut grass or toasted grain. It wasn't the sort of scent one would normally call arousing or alluring, but it was comforting. Soft. His hair was soft, too, undone around his shoulders, pressed against Dorian's neck as Dorian leaned over to watch.
Essek was right about the angle. Dorian could imagine it as if Orym was kneeling between his legs, resting against his thigh, pressing his deft fingers into Dorian's body instead of Caleb’s. And in his mind's eye, it was his own cock, not Caleb's, that would rouse steadily between his legs.
Dorian was surprised how quickly it swelled, even without a hand on it. He found himself centered and confident enough to say, "you really like this, don't you?"
Caleb hummed, low in his chest.
"You may answer him," Essek said.
"I do," Caleb said, an unnecessary specification. "It isn't something I always prefer, but— ah— when done right, it's very good." He reached out to brush his fingertips over Orym's cheek. "You're very good."
"Move your arm back down, I can't see," Dorian said.
"Apologies." Caleb dropped his hand back to the bedspread. "Wasn't thinking."
He must have been fully hard, because Orym said, "will we want to see him to finish, for Dorian to get it right?"
Dorian already wanted to cast, because he wanted to be in Caleb's place—or he wanted to be in Orym's, but pressing something more than his fingers into Caleb's body. "I think I have it," he said. "I hope I ought to, I mean, the orgasm part isn't quite as hard to—I've got it."
"Audience, or no audience, to cast it?" Orym said. "You could get up and walk out of the room, if you need to."
Having been the test subject for Dorian's earlier rounds of experimentation, Orym was accustomed to Dorian needing him to look away while he cast. Strangely, he was less anxious to perform when there were three men in the room, and not just one. Dorian supposed he did like an audience.
"Thank you, Orym, but I'll cast here."
He wedged himself back out from behind Caleb, who took back up petting Orym's hair and his face and complimenting him on how good he was with his fingers. Orym’s face flushed at the compliments. It seemed Caleb Widogast was able to fluster him in ways Dorian couldn’t—and for some reason this didn’t bother Dorian at all. If Orym blushed with open pleasure from an older man’s affections, all Dorian wanted to do was watch.
Besides, he couldn’t blame Orym one bit.
Dorian’s lute was still resting on the windowsill, and he picked it up, finding it sun-warmed and familiar, comforting in his grasp.
When he looked back toward the bed, he found Caleb kissing Orym, a sight which distracted him so thoroughly, he momentarily forgot how to speak.
Orym had to stand to kiss Caleb, and Dorian could see, easily, that he was hard. Those loose trousers hid nothing. Dorian almost wanted Orym to tumble forward into Caleb’s lap, so that he could press his cock against Caleb’s, but Dorian also wanted to be in Caleb’s place, and Dorian also wanted to sandwich Orym between them, pressing his own cock to Orym’s backside.
He’d fucked Orym before, with his fingers and with toys. But he wanted to fuck Orym. He became very aware of the place the seam of his underclothes rubbed against his clit.
Essek cleared his throat loudly enough to make Caleb and Orym snap to attention. Dorian couldn’t keep himself from giggling at the way the two of them broke apart and immediately turned to Essek, so focused on him it was as though he’d cast Command with that noise. But that wasn’t how Essek casted.
“The two of you are distracting him,” Essek said.
“They’re… inspiring me,” Dorian said.
“Inspiring.” Essek sounded dubious.
“Yes? The spell works better when my mental image is clearer,” Dorian said. The insistent pulse of his clit was probably helpful, too. Instead of picturing putting something on over his existing genitalia, he was picturing growing something from his own body.
Essek mouthed the words ‘mental image?’ like he was ever more baffled by Dorian’s spellcasting.
“Should we keep inspiring you?” Orym teased. “Or are you ready?”
“I am ready,” Dorian said. “But don’t let me stop you. Actually, it might be a little better if all your attention isn’t on me at once?”
Caleb nodded, following Dorian’s reasoning. “Essek, dear, are you feeling left out?”
Essek waved him off. “I want to see him cast,” he said. “He told me he would allow it.” He was almost petulant.
“He’s allowed!” Dorian said.
“You strange man,” Caleb said to his partner. It sounded like ‘I love you’. “Go on,” he said to Dorian. “I shall continue distracting your lover.”
Caleb then appeared not to be a very active participant in the distracting, because Orym practically launched himself at him, tumbling him flat into the pillows and kissing him extravagantly. It was one of Orym’s favorite things to do.
Dorian was correct in his conclusion that listening to the two of them moan was going to improve his ability to cast his spell. He strummed a little first, not putting any magic into it. He watched Essek perform the proper, crisp somatic gestures for Detect Magic, whispering the verbal.
Once he was sure he had Essek’s attention, Dorian cast Polymorph like he’d been doing it for ages now, his confidence blooming under Essek’s too-hot stare. Dorian always performed better when someone in his audience thought he was beautiful. Essek watched him like he might want to kiss him, and it brought the spell to completion in a way that felt satisfying, brilliant and golden, like the sunlight on his lute-strings.
He could feel it had worked. How well it had worked was still up for debate. Dorian set his lute on Essek’s nightstand instead of putting it back on the sill. Orym and Caleb were still wrapped up in each other, and did not snap to attention when Essek spoke. To be fair, he was almost whispering.
“May I see how it worked?”
Dorian nodded, and untucked his shirt before easing out of it entirely, as that was probably simpler. He parted the fly of his trousers to reveal his new-made appendage, and found he had created a fairly good replica of Caleb’s cock, in a shade of purple-blue that matched his own lips. It was soft, resting the same way Caleb’s had before Orym started touching him. Dorian worried it would stay that way, and then he heard Orym groan, and felt a shiver of arousal that was different from his usual. It was going to work.
Essek crept closer, kneeling at Dorian’s side. “It looks good,” he said.
“You’d have the best opinion, I suppose,” Dorian replied. “You know, since it’s his.”
“It’s yours,” Essek corrected him. “Now, how do you want to use it?”
He was sitting so carefully beside Dorian, an inch of space between them. On such a soft mattress, it would be easier to sink closer to him than to hold himself apart.
“You know you can touch me,” Dorian said. “You have before.”
The Essek who had tucked Dorian into his lap and gentled him while Caleb pleasured him was a different Essek from the one who reached out and smoothed one hand down the center of Dorian’s chest. Essek had been enjoying Dorian’s presence in their bed that night, but it was Caleb who had been turning Essek on.
Was it Dorian who was turning Essek on?
“I’d like to see you fuck my lover,” Essek said, “which feels selfish, all things considered. You did this for Orym, but…” Essek bit his lower lip, looking over his shoulder at the other two, who had begun paying attention while Dorian was entranced by Essek.
“Are you certain you don’t want him to fuck you?” Caleb said.
Essek made an aggrieved noise.
“You’re so cute when you get shy,” Caleb teased, winding a curl of Essek’s hair around his fingertip. “Dorian, your spellcraft looks beautiful, and you may do whatever you like with it.”
Dorian looked at Orym, for whom this spell had always been, and knew that if he asked, Orym would wait patiently for his turn, and if it didn’t come today, Orym would wait until Dorian cast the spell again.
Still, Dorian said, “I’d really like to try it with Orym.”
Caleb smiled indulgently, as if he would have said the same thing about Essek in the unlikely occurrence that their positions were reversed. “I’ll take care of Essek,” he said.
Essek protested that he did not need to be caretaken, Widogast, but Caleb scooped him into his arms and kissed his protests off his mouth.
“Hi,” Orym said, tumbling into Dorian’s arms and letting Dorian press him onto his back and lean over him. There was something incredible about doing this when Orym was already flushed and well-kissed. “You ready for this?”
Dorian said, “yes?” like he was surprised, because, well, he hadn’t exactly expected to find that his cock was getting hard. Not that all his previous attempts had been erection-free, it was just… this time, he could actually feel it more than he ever had before. He rocked against the sheets. He could feel that, too. “Oh, I think I did a good job this time,” he said.
He heard Caleb laugh, although it was hard to tell if he was reacting to Dorian. The bed was only so big, and Dorian and Caleb were both very tall men, so they were almost always right next to one another. Caleb had undone the front of Essek’s tunic and was kissing and licking his chest, his pink tongue flashing against violet skin.
“If you let me sit on your lap and ride you, we can both watch them,” Orym said. “We can probably kiss a little bit that way, too.”
“Whatever you think is best,” said Dorian, who was accustomed to Orym on top of him, even if the position differed.
“‘Kay. You wanna, um, first I need to get undressed and have, uh. Well, I got some prep taken care of.” He cleared his throat, apparently a little embarrassed? Flustered?
Dorian figured out the reason for that quickly. When he took Orym’s pants off, he gasped, and then asked, “when did you have time to put that in you?”
He was familiar with the plug Orym was wearing. It was the biggest one they had.
“Right before we left Zephrah?”
Dorian was still agape. “And the, you were just wearing it, doing the sword stuff?”
Orym shrugged. “I like to challenge myself.” His breath was uneven, like he’d just gotten back from a run. “Gonna take it out and put something better in?” The fact that he didn’t object to Dorian calling it ‘sword stuff’ probably meant that his little challenge was more challenging than he’d let on. He was desperate.
“Of course,” Dorian said.
He was absolutely delighted by the overwrought whimper that Orym gave him as he worked the plug free, and even more delighted as Essek’s head snapped up when Dorian whistled the little trill that would Prestidigitate the toy clean.
Essek ducked his head, tried to pretend he hadn’t been looking. Caleb looked openly, and said, “I had wondered if you had something like that hidden away. You looked more flushed than I’d expect for, what, nine and a half minutes in, and mostly touching me?”
“Shut uuup,” Orym groused.
Caleb did, and he also passed Orym the tin of lubricant, before putting his hand in Essek’s hair and pulling his head back to expose his throat for biting and licking.
Dorian sat up, going onto his knees, and sitting back on his heels. Orym drew closer to him, and instead of touching his cock or opening the tin, he braced both hands on Dorian’s thighs and licked his cock.
“Oh! Orym, you weren’t supposed to—“
“Just testing things out,” Orym said. “You did a good job, Dorian.”
As always, Dorian melted under his praise, and he melted further under Orym’s hand, slick and smooth, running up the length of his cock. It fit well in his hand. Just on the right edge of too large to hold.
Essek was watching them while Caleb continued to attend to him, and Dorian thought he was possibly waiting to see Dorian do magic with a whistle again. He obliged, cleaning Orym’s fingers and watching him shake his hand off afterward.
“You know that tickles,” Orym said.
Dorian did not apologize.
Orym made Dorian sit on his knees with his legs spread, so that Orym could rest with his shins on Dorian’s thighs. It required more balance than even Orym possessed, so Dorian had to hold onto his waist, but Orym was able to situate himself properly, making Dorian cry out as he sank onto his cock.
And he was correct—if he tipped his head back and Dorian leaned over, they could, albeit at an awkward angle, kiss.
They couldn’t kiss and fuck at the same time very well, though, because fucking himself required most of Orym’s concentration and all of his considerable lower body strength.
And they could, as Orym suggested, watch the others from this angle.
The only other time the four of them had been involved, Essek had been on the sidelines for most of it, talking and directing and even telling Caleb to come, but mostly touching Dorian directly, more to gentle him than seduce him. Only at the very end had Essek let Caleb draw him in, kiss him and bring him to completion by grinding against his thigh, fully clothed.
So it was a strange thing to see Essek halfway undone, his collar gaping open, the little pearl buttons loosened to show dark, cool skin under the soft, pale fabric. Caleb had his hand shoved under the tunic, possibly in Essek’s leggings. It looked like he was moving with a rhythm.
Dorian tore his attention from Essek to watch Orym, who was fucking himself without any rhythm at all. “May I?” Dorian asked, putting his hands on Orym’s hips and trying to show that he’d pull Orym back onto his cock if Orym wanted.
“Yeah.” Orym sank forward, planting his hands on Dorian’s thighs, grip so tight he was certainly leaving bruises.
He felt so small like this.
Of course, Dorian was aware of Orym’s size. He either had to kneel to kiss him, or he had to lift Orym up so that Orym could reach his mouth. Sometimes, Orym would sit on tables, and then Dorian could fit nicely between his legs. Orym’s cock didn’t stretch Dorian more than what was comfortably easy when he fucked him. Dorian could lift him with one arm. And still, Orym never felt as small as he did when Dorian had both hands around his waist, rocking Orym on his cock and listening to every breathy noise out of his throat, feeling the hot clench of his body on Dorian’s cock.
Dorian knew he could take this, because he’d seen Caleb fuck Orym, but it still felt like it should have been impossible. Caleb was well-endowed, and Dorian, mimicking him, was also well-endowed. And Orym was a very small man, but Orym was desperately eager to be fucked, like it didn’t give him anything but pleasure, and so Dorian had to gently tell him, “you really do take this so well.”
Orym chuckled, a broken thing. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, I like taking it. Can you move faster, Dorian? Fuck me a little bit harder?”
Dorian was not drawing Orym down into his cock with anything even approaching the speed Orym usually fucked him with. There was some joke Orym had said about halflings fucking like rabbits. Dorian couldn’t manage that, with the awkward angle and his uncertainty of how far he could pull Orym up without sliding him off his cock, but he could pick up the pace a little.
Dorian keeping his hold on Orym’s waist allowed Orym to stop balancing himself with both hands. He put one between his legs instead, and started stroking himself, out of time with Dorian’s thrusts, because Dorian maintained a pace and Orym just went faster and faster until he spilled onto the blankets between Dorian’s knees.
Dorian was possibly breathing heavier than Orym, and for him, it wasn’t even exertion, just emotion. He put his nose to Orym’s hair, kissed him there and told him he’d done so well, and then Orym stood, shaky-legged, and pulled Dorian in for a kiss.
“You did so good,” Orym said. He kissed Dorian’s mouth again, softer. “Feeling ok?”
“Oh, possibly so aroused I’ll swoon, but I think we might have some help with that.” He looked over Orym’s shoulder at Caleb and Essek. “Well. Maybe.”
In allowing Orym and Dorian as much of a private moment as they could, Caleb and Essek had become engrossed in one another, and Caleb was pressing Essek back onto the pillows and lavishing him with kisses. Essek was further undressed than Dorian had ever seen him, even in the days he’d spent traveling with the man, his top undone and hanging around his arms and his leggings pulled down and cast off the bed, leaving him in soft little shorts that left almost nothing to the imagination, the white fabric thoroughly wet and transparent.
Unlike Dorian, Essek had done nothing to reduce the size of his chest, which made sense, given that he was very small-framed, and drow were less particular about gendered appearances. It did mean Caleb had a good handful to grab, and when he did, Essek made a sharp, high noise. If any of them called it a squeal, he’d probably be pissed off. It was, however, a squeal.
“If you want to fuck me,” said Caleb, who had apparently diagnosed the lack of noise from their corner of the room, “your lover has helpfully prepared me for such things. I can stay right here, can’t I, Essek?”
“You must,” Essek said, fervent. “I want to watch him.”
Called hummed, thoughtful. “You will probably have a better view if my head is between your legs,” he suggested.
Essek made another impassioned sound. Dorian wasn’t sure whether to take it as an agreement, but Caleb definitely did.
“Can I sit over here with you?” Orym asked, standing beside Essek, and tucking himself in against his side when Essek agreed.
“Should I… what should I do?” Dorian asked.
“Whatever you like.” Caleb brought him in for a brief kiss, which lengthened when Dorian realized that at some point during Dorian's fixation on Orym, Caleb had his face between Essek’s legs and still tasted of him. When they parted, he added, “although, keep in mind that I am not as athletic as he is.”
“Caleb, no one is as athletic as Orym is,” Dorian said.
"Orym and Beauregard can argue about that later," Essek said, some of his earlier imperiousness returning. "We have much better things to do right now."
Caleb lowered his head and took to task before Dorian managed to settle into position. He bowed over Caleb’s back and kissed his shoulder. “May I?”
Caleb didn’t exactly say words, still focused on kissing and licking Essek through his thoroughly-soaked underclothes, but his sounds were affirmative. Essek’s sounds were just arousing.
Dorian could hear that Orym was speaking quietly to Essek, but he couldn’t quite discern the words, his pulse too heavy in his ears as he found where Orym had fingered Caleb open and pressed in. He realized through the bleary haze of pleasure that they must have been negotiating some form of touch, because Orym’s hand was skating over Essek’s chest, tracing his collarbone and his sternum, featherlight on his neck.
Essek appeared to make a concentrated effort to wrench his eyes open. He was looking right at Dorian. He looked like an absolute wreck, which was expected. Dorian knew how good Caleb was with his mouth. He doubted a thin, barely-there layer of fabric would be enough to dull that pleasure.
Dorian shivered, knowing Essek was observing him so closely. He dropped his gaze back to Caleb—to what he could see of the back of Caleb’s head. “What, um. What do you like? How should I…?”
Caleb didn’t answer, he just tapped Essek’s thigh, which prompted Essek to speak on his behalf. “Do what feels good,” Essek said. “I want to see you come in my husband.”
Caleb’s moan was muffled, but audible. Dorian saw him slip his fingers into Essek’s shorts and then into his cunt, and presumed Essek had requested to keep his underwear on, and Caleb was pushing semantics to their very limit. Dorian could see just the edges of damp white curls and aubergine skin.
It was a different sensation, fucking someone like this. Different even to pushing a toy inside of Orym with his thigh between Orym’s legs. Perhaps he ought to take Fearne up on her continual insistence that a harness would make that sort of play more fun.
Still, he thought it would be hard to compare to the feeling of pushing his cock into the man beneath him and watching Caleb arch and press his mouth more feverishly against Essek’s cunt. Dorian wasn’t going to last long. But he was going to do his best to make it good while he lasted.
He put both hands to Caleb’s hips to hold him steady, trying to fuck him with all the speed and ferocity Orym fucked Dorian. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded, only that it felt incredible, being freer to move than he had been with Orym on his lap, and he almost couldn’t keep his eyes open.
He had to keep his eyes open. He might never again get to see Essek like this, strung out and as near to orgasm as Dorian was, with Caleb’s wicked mouth and Orym’s gentle hands on him, watching Dorian through heavy white lashes.
“I think,” Dorian said effortfully, “I can get a hand on you from here.”
“He doesn’t need it.” Essek lifted one of his own hands and lazily cast a familiar somatic which Dorian was intimately familiar with. He couldn’t see it, but he could hear a Mage Hand start to jerk Caleb off beneath him.
Caleb bucked between him and Essek. It was too much, his own pleasure redoubling Dorian’s, and he was so close.
It was Essek finishing that got him, though. Essek was normally so graceful and aloof, and now, he was grabbing the back of Caleb’s head and fucking his mouth, using Caleb’s tongue and his fingers like toys to work himself through, head tipped back, shivering and coming apart, while Orym quietly said what they were all thinking.
“Fuck, Essek.”
Dorian doubled forward when he came, startled by the difference in how it felt. There wasn’t the rhythmic, internal pulse of his cunt, but a tightness that was being released, a loose feeling that made him want to melt completely onto the bedsheets.
Before he did that, he, at Essek’s instruction, helped work Caleb to his finish, putting his fingers in him just like Orym had at the start of all this, while the Mage Hand worked his cock over. Caleb leaned his head against Essek’s thigh, a sticky hand still resting gently over Essek’s underclothes.
Caleb made a soft, broken noise when he finished, his hips pushing into the Mage Hand around his cock. Dorian, understanding of oversensitivity, pulled his fingers free and smoothed his hand over Caleb’s lower back.
It felt like all of them exhaled in unison. Then, Essek said, “time?”
While Dorian was peering at the nightstand and trying to read the small clock from a distance, Caleb said, “sixteen minutes left.”
Essek nodded. He let Caleb curl around behind him while he banished the wet spot on the bed. He left Dorian to Prestidigitate his own hands. Dorian wondered if it was because Essek wanted to watch him cast again.
“Dorian, you can, of course, let the spell end, but I would be interested in seeing you recast it before it terminates, as we had discussed,” Essek explained.
“For no reason other than the academic, I suppose?” Dorian teased.
Essek’s eyes darted away from his. He was flustered. “Perhaps for additional reasons.”
Essek allowed Dorian to lie wedged between him and Orym, all four of them cozied in bed as if they might just fall asleep there. Dorian didn’t get his lute. He thought he could manage the quick progression the way he usually cast cantrips, so it was a clear, high whistle that split the breathless silence.
Nothing happened, physically. It was different from casting the spell anew, just refreshing what was already there for another hour. But there was a shimmer of magic in the air between them, and Dorian knew it had worked.
“Now that’s done, I have another spell that might help us,” Dorian said, brushing his fingertips just around the curve of Essek’s tired brow.
Orym knew what a Song of Rest felt like, what it sounded like, so as Dorian sang a lilting Primordial melody, he tucked himself in happily and let the magic wash over him. Caleb and Essek, having no close acquaintances who knew bardic techniques, were unfamiliar.
Caleb’s eyes closed and his shoulders relaxed, his arm around Essek’s waist going slack. “That is wonderful, I need you when I’m working late,” he said.
Essek’s eyes also closed, but scrunched tight with tension unexpected for the spell.
“Did it… hurt?” Dorian asked him.
Essek shook his head. “Don’t worry, I’m—it feels incredible.” He laughed shakily. “It’s only that the exhaustion from all that was the only thing keeping me from admitting that I find your manner of spellcasting… alluring.”
“We all knew this,” Caleb said.
Essek rolled his eyes. “There is a difference between allowing my body language to be interpreted and asking to fuck somebody.”
“Are you asking?” Dorian said.
Essek buried his face in the pillow and made an aggrieved noise.
“Answer him, dear,” Caleb said.
Dorian watched Essek visibly struggle for words and was about to tell him that he didn’t have to answer, they could just ignore and move forward, but then Essek seized Dorian’s face between his hands and kissed him.
Dorian had kissed Essek before. Then, and now, it felt as if Essek considered all his other options with the utmost care before finally reaching the end of his rope and kissing Dorian. It might have been a slight, were Essek not the sort of man who was, above all else, methodical. Dorian, happy to be the next step in Essek’s careful method of attraction, kissed him back.
There was the problem of knowing where to put his hands. He couldn’t remember what he’d done with them last time. His right hand was tucked up underneath the pillow, it was the left that was the concern. He let it hover somewhere around Essek’s shoulder, and finally figured that resting it on his still-clothed arm couldn’t hurt. He could feel Orym stroking his hair, and just the slightest touch of the backs of Caleb’s knuckles as his hand smoothed up Essek’s chest.
It was Caleb who moved Dorian’s hand eventually, slipping it down and under Essek’s open shirtfront. Caleb wedged them closer together, too, and as Dorian briefly broke the kiss and opened his eyes, he found Caleb easing Essek’s leg over Dorian’s thigh.
“Does it help, dear?” Caleb asked.
Essek ground down against Dorian’s leg and made a soft, broken sound. Then, he kissed Dorian again.
Dorian was confused for a moment, having thought that Essek had cleaned up his shorts when he was getting rid of the wet spots on the bed. He found them to still be damp. Then, his mind caught uph, and he realized it was renewed arousal, just from kissing him. And maybe from watching him cast.
Dorian’s own body answered with similar pleasure, and he could feel his conjured cock beginning to stiffen again. He felt Orym shift against his back, probably moving to get a better view.
“Essek,” Dorian said. For a man who was so reserved, he really did have a name that sounded best in a sensual whisper. “I’m going to need you to say, aloud, if you want—“
“Fuck me,” Essek interrupted. It was like how he’d said, “stay for dinner.” This, also, was followed with, “please.”
Dorian felt Orym’s hand form a fist on his shoulder. He glanced at Orym, and found him watching with rapt attention. “Is it okay if I’m here?” he asked, not realizing Dorian had been turning to gauge whether Orym was alright with this, not because Dorian was worried Essek might not want Orym in the room.
Essek made a quizzical noise, like he might have forgotten Orym was in the room. Dorian saw Caleb, looking over Essek’s shoulder the way Orym was looking over his, nod to Orym.
“Can we take these off, love?” Caleb asked, fingers in the waistband of Essek’s shorts.
Essek gave a fussy little shake of his head. “I’d rather…”
“Okay. Then, may I?”
“Whatever you like, I just—“ Essek had buried his face in Dorian’s chest, and he sounded equally embarrassed and aroused. “I just want him in me.”
Caleb kissed Essek’s shoulder and then leaned around to fit his fingers between Essek’s legs, hook the crotch of his shorts out of the way, and ease Dorian’s cock into him.
It was different to fucking the others. There was no concern about lubrication; Dorian could feel Essek’s cunt get wetter even as Dorian pressed into him.
Essek fit snugly in Dorian’s lap, both his legs wrapped around Dorian’s waist. They remained on their sides, and Dorian pressed his hand onto the small of Essek’s back to urge Essek tight against him, feeling Essek move in greedy little circles, grinding his cock against Dorian’s body. Essek’s head tipped back, overwrought. His hair was all over the place. Dorian heard Orym gasp, just looking at them.
“Describe it,” Caleb said. He was still rubbing circles on Essek’s thigh, all the way up to his hip, under the hem of Essek’s underwear. For all Dorian was doing to him, Essek might as well not have been wearing them. It was somehow hotter, though, that he was the only clothed one of the bunch.
“He’s so—it feels like you,” Essek said. “Dorian, you did so well.”
Dorian shuddered, rocking his hips forward to thrust against Essek just a little. Dorian always got off on praise.
Caleb put his hands on Essek’s waist, squeezing tight enough that his fingers made divots in the softness of Essek’s skin. He pressed himself tight against Essek’s back and Essek struggled between them.
Worried, Dorian backed off, but Caleb reached around and held him there. “He likes when he feels trapped like this. Usually I need rope to do it. You’re helping, trust me.”
“Alright,” Dorian said, and took Essek’s wrist in his hand, pinning Essek’s hands against his chest so that when Caleb crushed him between them, Essek’s arms were trapped too.
“Clever,” Caleb said. “Essek, what do you need to come? Anything else?”
“Kiss me?” Essek said.
“Which of us—?” Dorian asked.
“Both of us, I think.” Caleb went first, leaning over Essek’s shoulder and finding his mouth when Essek turned his head.
Dorian liked having a front row seat to Caleb biting Essek’s full lower lip, to Essek’s tongue, a shock of pink against his purple skin, flicking out to lick back. The way Essek was rocking and grinding in Dorian’s lap just made it even better. He was barely moving on Dorian’s cock, but it was overwhelming anyway.
Essek turned and kissed Dorian, and Dorian imagined his mouth tasted slightly different for having tasted Caleb’s first. This kiss was shorter, because Dorian suddenly forgot how to use his mouth, having felt Essek’s cunt squeeze tight around his cock.
“Is he—?” Caleb said. He was talking to Orym.
“He’s fine,” Orym said. “He doesn’t need to.”
Oh. Dorian wasn’t breathing. Not externally, anyway. His endless breath would cycle through his chest as long as he needed, but he couldn’t talk, and it would make kissing more difficult. He exhaled all of it first, and then, when he was free of it, said, “sorry. It happens when I’m overwhelmed.”
When he opened his eyes, Essek was looking at him like he was the most fascinating thing in the world. Dorian could be nothing but flattered.
“Ask him about it later,” said Caleb, distracting Essek with another kiss.
Dorian felt him go tight around his cock again, and knew now that Essek was close. Caleb’s hand was busy holding Essek’s chin in place so he could keep him where he wanted to kiss, so Dorian took an educated guess and gripped Essek’s waist as hard as he could, forcing Essek to tug against him in order to grind against his stomach.
Dorian was immediately aware of Essek’s orgasm as a repeated series of hot clenches around his cock, and he was also aware of Essek dropping away from Caleb’s mouth to try to breathe properly. Caleb put his arm around Essek’s chest and gripped him tight.
“That’s it,” he said. “You always come the hardest when you’re stuffed full, don’t you?” He kissed Essek’s cheek. “My fingers were nice, but you needed his cock.”
Essek, unsuccessful with the ‘breathing properly’ bit, said nothing. Caleb continued to gentle him with quiet praise, murmured just against his skin.
When Essek had finally settled, Caleb asked, “will you let us take care of Dorian, Schatz?”
“Yes. It’s getting to be. Ah. Much.”
“Let me,” Caleb said, helping to ease Essek off Dorian’s cock and onto his back. He laid another kiss on Essek’s mouth. “You did so well, dear. You can watch, now, and I’m sure Dorian would appreciate if you touched him.”
“You don’t have to—I don’t have to come again,” Dorian said.
“Has that changed with having a dick, too?” Orym teased. Dorian usually came twice, sometimes more. Six times, on one occasion when Orym really wanted to test their stamina.
“Hush, I’m being polite.”
“We’ll happily help you finish again,” Caleb said. “I have plenty of experience with sucking cock—sucking my own cock, even. And I will enjoy the taste of Essek on you.”
“I think we ought to give him the full experience of things, anyway,” Orym said. “Tell me if you need to tap out, Widogast. I’m pretty good at this, myself.”
Caleb pushed on Dorian’s hip until he was on his back. Essek lay beside him, his fingers playing over Dorian’s body the way Orym had touched Essek earlier. Dorian was sure this wasn’t a coincidence—Essek had felt the way Orym touched a lover and was replicating it under the assumption that Dorian liked to be touched that way. The assumption was correct.
Caleb, true to his word, licked Dorian’s cock clean with long strokes, making a clear sound of enjoyment as he did. Orym stood so he could kiss Dorian’s neck, but didn’t try to block his view of Caleb leaning in to suck Dorian’s cock into his mouth, his lips lowering steadily to the base and his throat convulsing around it in a manner not dissimilar to Essek’s cunt, before he drew back up, suction making Dorian feel like he was going to pull the orgasm right out of him.
“I—I’m already close,” Dorian said. He knew from Orym’s example that it was polite to warn somebody before coming in their mouth.
Caleb pulled his head back, taking Dorian in hand for a few lazy strokes as he addressed Orym. “I think if you want a turn, you should take it now.”
“I do,” Orym said. He tapped Dorian under the chin. “You came in him last time, so you come in me this time, alright?”
“Very alright,” Dorian managed, dumbfounded.
Orym took a seat between Dorian’s thighs. “He likes being bitten, here,” he said, indicating the soft skin on the inside of Dorian’s thigh. “If you wanted ideas.”
“I appreciate them,” Caleb said, easing Dorian’s thigh to a wider angle. At the first touch of Orym’s tongue, Dorian startled and tried to pull his legs in close, but Essek got his knee under Dorian’s and returned the favor of holding him in place.
Dorian’s hands fluttered birdlike and lost, and Essek caught one and Orym caught the other. Essek held Dorian’s hand to his chest, while Orym encouraged Dorian to settle the other on his shoulder, over the curl of his tattoo.
Caleb braced one of his thighs to nip and kiss and leave violet bruises on his skin, and Orym leaned heavily on the other, so Dorian didn’t have room to thrust. This was good, because he hardly wanted to choke Orym, who was able to fit an admirable amount of Dorian’s cock into his much smaller mouth. Orym’s hand wrapped around the base where his mouth wouldn’t reach, and he sucked Dorian off with none of the hesitation and shyness he’d had when he asked Caleb to show him how to eat Dorian out. He knew what he was doing.
Orym’s competence had always turned Dorian on, and now that he knew what it felt like, he could anticipate orgasm building in his balls instead of in his cunt. He squeezed Orym’s shoulder tighter, unable to speak because he’d stopped breathing again.
Orym stroked his hip gently, acknowledging Dorian’s silent message. When Dorian looked down at him, he was lovely. He was always lovely, but it was hard to see his face when he was buried in Dorian’s cunt. Here, even if Dorian couldn’t see Orym’s mouth past his hands, it wasn’t just the top of his head. His lovely eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks, which held a high blush, his hair in licks of messy dark curls over his forehead.
His eyes flicked open, so deep and green, and Dorian squeezed Essek’s hand tight and watched Orym drop his hand, open his mouth, and let Dorian come all over his tongue and down his lips and chin.
The first thing out of Dorian’s mouth, once he began breathing again, was a humiliating squeak, which made Orym laugh, wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, and give Dorian the biggest hug that a very small man could manage.
“You’re good at that,” Dorian said. “Both of you.”
At the same time, Caleb and Orym both said, “practice.”
They settled in together, as the afternoon sun spread out across the bedsheets. Dorian, who felt silly sitting around with a cock he wasn’t using, dropped the spell. He was more aware of his nudity without it for some reason, but Orym had already thought to pull a blanket over them.
“Thank you,” Dorian said to Essek.
“Are you really— thank you.” Essek gestured at the wreck of the bed. “That was a very enjoyable afternoon. Thank you for coming over to put spells to inappropriate use.”
“Oh! You’re welcome!” Dorian fixed his hair, which was not mussed, having fluttered back into place as soon as he wanted it to. “I’d be happy to, um, come over and do spells again.”
“I’m sure we would be happy to have you over for spells whenever you like,” Caleb said.
Essek groaned, out of frustration, not pleasure. “You cannot use ‘spells’ as an innuendo. You are a wizard whose occupation is as a wizard professor at a wizard school. Pick another word.”
Orym was hiding laughter against Dorian’s shoulder.
“Fine,” Caleb said. “You and Orym can come over to Polymorph anytime.”