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It’s an easy evening tonight in the house.
You’re currently celebrating the opening of Beverly’s bar (the official one, now that word has gotten out) and talking with Cabrizzio and Abel. They’re all musing over her signature cocktail, one that you unfortunately had to turn down because you can’t exactly drink jet fuel. You asked Beverly to mix you something else and she happily agreed, sliding you a glass of something that looked similar to a sunset in a glass, topped with a tiny umbrella.
“Thanks, Bev!” You smile at her and cradle the drink, sniffing it to make sure it isn’t window cleaner or something. Thankfully, it only smells sweet and slightly fruity, so you raise the glass to your lips.
The drink is just as saccharine as it smells, something like passionfruit and lychee dancing on your tongue. It’s gone before you know it and you ask Beverly for another, deciding this time to take it slow. Everyone else is chatting and sampling different drinks. You decide to find a quieter place to drink as they get rowdier, stepping away from the mini-bar and returning upstairs to your bedroom. Drink still in hand, you get the impulse to materialize Dorian, if only to say goodnight.
With the last charge of the Dateviators, he appears in front of you, tall and intimidating, voice slightly rugged like he’s fresh out of sleep. He’s dressed down now, coat discarded, the sleeves of his button up rolled to reveal tattooed forearms. “Hello, love. Off to bed?”
You nod and look up at him. Maybe it’s just the rose tint of the Dateviators, but has he always looked so… charming? “Yeah. Just wanted to say goodnight.”
Dorian smiles, sending butterflies straight through your stomach. “Sweet dreams, then.” God, you must be some sort of lightweight—just looking at him makes you weak in the knees. Not to mention the heat flooding you all over, especially in certain… areas .
You offer your drink to him, unsure if you should have another. “Uh—do you want some? Beverly opened her bar tonight.”
“So I’ve heard.” When Dorian eyes you suspiciously, you shake the glass a little, standing on the tips of your toes to press the sugared rim of the cup to his lips. You have no idea what’s gotten into you lately, but you know that you like this, like the way his face lights up in red when you move closer.
“It’s a mocktail, you’ll be fine.” Is your voice slurring?
Dorian raises his brow but accepts the glass from you, taking it out of your hands. His fingers brush yours and you shiver, the contact electrifying. “If you say so.”
He’s pleasantly surprised by the menagerie of flavours of the drink, easily downing it in one go. “Hey, I was drinking that!”
Dorian looks down at you and licks his lips; he has to be doing this on purpose. Fuck. You press your thighs together and squirm as he replies in his rich voice, “I think you’ve had enough to drink for tonight,” and brushes sugar from the corner of your lip.
“Yeah…” you reply, dazed. A fervent haze begins to overtake you, sweat pooling in the small of your back.
“Yeah?”
You take his thumb into your mouth, not missing the way his eyes widen with surprise and hunger, pupils dilating as you wrap your hands around his wrist. Now you’re really in for it.
Dorian says your name but doesn’t pull away. “What are you doing?” His face is flushed deep red, sweat rolling down his forehead.
You pull back and curl your hands into his shirt, wrinkling the clean-pressed satin, his body tense and firm under your grasp. “Don’t know,” you murmur softly, pressing your face to his chest. He’s warm—you can hear the faintest trace of a quickening heartbeat behind all that muscle.
He nearly drops the glass when you do that. He doesn’t understand the sudden rush of desire towards you, the spiraling heat that makes his cock twitch in his pants, the uncontrollable urge to take, to claim—
“Dorian.”
“What is it, love?” He whispers, brushing his knuckles over the back of your head. “You feeling alright?”
“I need you.” You pull back to look up at him, eyes glossy. “Please.”
Dorian’s breath hitches. “You have me.”
“No,” you insist, sliding one hand down his chest to fumble with the latch of his pants, using the other to push him backwards into the bedroom. He steps back and allows you to direct him to the bed, setting the now empty glass down on the dresser and falling back onto the mattress. “I need you.”
Dorian huffs, his body feeling hot and heavy as you drag the cotton of his briefs down. He has no idea why he’s letting you do this, why he wants this, but he wants it so goddamn bad he’d kill for it. In your hazed state, you remember the lube in the nightstand drawer, pulling it out and lathering a generous amount on both your hole and Dorian’s exposed cock. He’s thick in your hand, already leaking precum at the tip.
“God, darling, you have no idea what you do to me, do you?” He rasps as you straddle him, having discarded your own clothes without even realizing it. You swallow thickly and align your hole with him, slowly sinking down as he grasps your waist and drags his hands down to your hips.
You both let out a groan as he penetrates you, the sensation a cooling balm against the heat blazing in your flesh. You’re feverish enough as it is, but the way he looks at you with those dark eyes, brows furrowed as he helps you sink all the way down against him, could drive you absolutely insane. You reach down to undo his shirt and he helps you, pulling it open so you can brace yourself on his bare shoulders.
“Fuck, Dorian, fuck it’s big—”
He leans his head back and lets out something akin to a whimper, bringing you up before slamming you back down against him. He fills you up perfectly, the stretch unpleasant for a minute before it’s dulled by sweet pleasure. “You keep talking like that, I won’t be able to help myself.”
You let out a string of soft pleas and moans, rolling your hips down against him as you shut your eyes. He stops when you do that. “You look at me when I’m fucking you, alright?”
Desperate to cum and ready to agree with anything he says, you open your eyes and nod, trying to fight the urge to roll them back in your head when he continues to pound into you. You keep going like that for a minute until Dorian hooks his leg behind one of yours and you buckle, shifting your positions until he’s towering over you. “Dorian!”
“I’m in control now.” And you surrender to him, locking your legs around his hips as he repeatedly thrusts inside of you, motions frantic and sloppy as if he’s in heat. Maybe he is, with the way his body feels like it’s burning all over, even with the cold air striking his back. His muscles flex as he pins you down to the bed, kissing you on the neck, the chest, the mouth, tongue wrestling against yours as you bite his lower lip. “So fucking good, you’re doing so well for me. You like that, huh?”
“Yes, yes, ” you moan, clenching your hole around him. “Fuck me harder, harder, need you to cum inside of me!”
“Is that what you want? I didn’t know the human of the house was so filthy, ” Dorian teases, lips brushing your jugular, teeth catching and dragging down your throat. You whine in protest.
“I’m not filthy! Fuck—” You’re cut off as he presses down on your stomach, feeling the way his cock slides in and out of you, intensifying the already overwhelming sensation.
“No? But here you are, moaning my name for the whole house to hear you. But it’s alright, I love it when you moan my name.” This side of Dorian is completely foreign to you and yet it feels so right , especially when he reaches down to stroke you, fingers working relentlessly against you as you writhe and grasp at the pillow beneath you.
“Dorian, Dorian, please, gonna cum, I can’t!”
He kisses at your neck, bracing himself on the headboard as he reaches his limit. “Yeah, you can do it, just take it—gonna fill you up nicely, alright?”
You nod and go for one last kiss, tangling your hands through his hair to pull him close as his hips stutter and then stop, cum slowly dripping into you. The heat in your body begins to fade and so does your vision, slowly going black as Dorian pulls out of you. You feel something cool and soft wipe your hole, then blankets over you, then a last glimpse of him as he gently removes the Dateviators from your face. When you wake up in the morning your first instinct is to talk to Bedroom Dorian.
You can barely remember last night, but you remember feeling good, the same euphoria rushing back when Dorian gives you a lazy smile.
“Morning, love. I’m still a bit sleepy. It must’ve been something I drank.”